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talesofstyles · 3 years

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Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together.

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.”

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself.

“How’s your mum?”

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat.

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood.

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house.

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw.

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat.

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity.

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse.

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.”

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?”

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past. “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful.

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush.

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.”

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen.

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles.

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t.

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair.

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family.

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university.

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life.

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed.

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space.

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us.

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze.

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks.

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes.

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison.

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk.

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away.

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage.

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside.

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns.

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster.

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife.

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry.

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it.

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions.

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?”

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder.

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins.

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…”

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare.

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to.

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line.

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?”

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant.

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird.

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates.

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra.

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed.

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it.

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips?

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now.

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that.

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud.

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London.

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.”

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her.

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years.

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough.

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine.

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands.

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?”

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her.

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs.

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place.

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly.

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?”

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm.

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me.

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon.

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.”

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable.

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs.

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus.

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin.

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love…

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious.

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.”

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way.

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely?

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute.

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy.

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am.

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen.

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck.

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time.

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage.

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms.

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff.

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on.

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters.

“Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins.

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me.

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air.

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking.

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter.

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us.

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car.

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume.

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents.

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper. I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce.

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator.

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season.

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.”

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling.

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

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raviotherabbit · 3 years

Text

Reunion Tour - Chapter 1

note: this is an extended version of these two posts, with an ending added on.

[first] - [next] read it on ao3!

Chapter 1: Familiar Circumstances Wild and Warriors meet each other again.

- - -

There were quite a few things Wild wanted to do this weekend. Like maybe sleep in for a bit, maybe cooking a special breakfast. They’d even been planning on visiting little Zelly, a promise that her mother was sure to scold them for not keeping.

Instead, they were rudely awoken by a rough collision with the dirt, and they quickly realized they weren’t in their soft waterbed in Zora’s Domain anymore. Blearily blinking their eyes open, Wild feels like they’ve been hit by Ruta’s Cryonis again.

They’re in the castle courtyard of Warriors’ time. Which, as they seem to recall, is tens of thousands of years removed from their own era.

“Oh great,” Wild scowls as the golden light fades behind them. Ten years since their tearful goodbyes with their fellow heroes, and all of a sudden, Hylia’s playing games again.

Wild pushes themself off the ground, dusting whatever they can off with their one arm. It’s only then, when several halberds are pointed right at their face, that they realize they have an audience.

“Stop right there!” one of the soldiers, presumably a higher ranking officer, shouts. “Put your hands in the air!”

Wild frowns, but some part of their mind still remembers Warriors’ lectures to respect authority in his era. It was always so annoying, especially since he was the only one who cared so much about how they were perceived by the guards, but the anger in his eyes after Wild’s third infraction for trespassing (it’s not like those people were USING their roofs!) was enough to convince them to behave. So, after a moment of hesitation, they raise their arm above their head.

“Both hands!” The guard juts his halberd closer to Wild’s face.

“This is all I’ve got, man.”

A lower ranking guard lifts the side of Wild’s poncho. “They’re telling the truth, sir,” they announce, gesturing to their missing right arm.

“W-well!” the officer stammers, and Wild can’t help but smirk. “Take them to a cell! Trespassing on castle grounds is no laughing matter!”

Wild rolls their eyes as one of the soldiers forcefully grabs their left arm. “You’re gonna regret this, you know.”

“Quiet you!” the senior officer snaps at them. “I’ll have no disrespect from magicians who infiltrate our defenses against the crown!”

“Fine,” Wild scoffs. “Hey, while you’re processing my intake paperwork or whatever, could you tell my brother where I am? He’ll be sooooo worried about me.”

The senior officer’s eye twitches. One of the lower ranking guards whispers, “It is protocol to inform citizens of incarcerated family members.”

“Alright! Alright!” the senior officer throws his hands up in frustration. “Just tell me and get out of here!”

“He’s the hero, Link. Ever heard of him?” Wild forces down a laugh as the officer’s face turns red. “Tell him Wild’s in prison again, and it’s not their fault this time!”

“Take them away!” the senior officer points the guard holding them towards the dungeon. “Now!”

And even though they’re being dragged into the dreaded dungeons of Hyrule Castle, Wild can’t help but laugh the entire time.

- - -

“You’re going to be in big trouble,” Wild lightly scratches at the rusty bars of their jail cell. They’re sitting on the nasty dungeon floor, legs crossed. “Seriously, it’s not too late to let me go.”

The guard stationed outside their cell sighs. “I’m not in charge of that.”

Wild huffs, pouting to themself. A little recognition wouldn’t hurt, would it? They were here all the time a decade ago! And even then, everyone knew they were with Wars. These kinds of theatrics and blunders are just rude!

“So, is Commander Link really your brother?”

Wild’s ear twitches when the guard speaks up. “Commander, huh? Wars got a promotion?”

“Uh, I-” the guard stammers. “I don’t-”

“Yeah, he’s pretty much my brother,” Wild answers. “It’s been a bit since I was in town, though.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

The shout rings through the dungeons, a shrill entitlement that Wild would know anywhere.

Wild clicks their tongue. “That’d be him,” they point their thumb towards the entrance to the dungeon. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m going to die.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Wild promises, standing up and gripping onto one of the bars just as Warriors rounds the corner, flanked by the senior officer, who now looks flustered.

And that’s Wild’s confirmation that it’s been some time for their brother, as well. He’s sporting some well-manicured stubble, obviously, because everything about Wars is well-manicured. His hair is longer, tied back in a ponytail that reminds Wild of themself. Of course, they didn’t have a chance to do their hair before landing in the past, so it’s all loose and tangled.

“Wild?!” Warriors shouts, mostly in shock. “You’re really here?!”

“Oh thank goodness!” Wild feels like they could cry. “Wars get me out of here!”

“What are you doing here?” Wars ruffles their hair through the bars, a warm smile on both of their faces. “I thought we agreed, no more trespassing.”

“It’s not my fault, it was the portals!” Wild explains quickly. “They wouldn’t listen to me. I just woke up here!”

Hearing Wild’s poor circumstances, Wars snaps back towards the senior officer. “You ARRESTED my brother!”

“Your one-armed brother!” Wild pipes up from behind him.

“My ONE-ARMED- wait,” Warriors turns back to Wild, his tone suddenly soft as he looks at them with concern. “You lost your arm?”

Wild stares at Warriors blankly. “Don’t tell Twilight.”

“I’m not-!” Wars sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How would I even tell him?”

Wild simply shrugs.

“We’re talking about this later,” Warriors asserts, before turning to address the officer once again. His glare is cold, and his fury is burning. “I can’t BELIEVE that you saw a clearly disoriented individual in your courtyard and decided to ARREST THEM, of all things! Who is your superior, I’ll have to inform him-!”

Wild leans over to the guard, who’s standing frozen with fear next to the cell. “I told you,” they whisper.

- - -

“I’m hungry,” Wild whines, tugging at Warriors’ sleeve. “Can we get breakfast somewhere? I didn’t get to eat before I got arrested.”

Wars, in turn, shoots them a look of annoyance. He shrugs them off, continuing down the street. “You aren’t even the slightest bit concerned that the portals are opening again?”

“Please Wars I’m starving,” Wild begs. “I got pulled out of bed.”

Warriors sighs. “Fine. If you’re so insistent on breakfast, you can have free reign of my kitchen-” A sly smile creeps onto his face. “It’s been a while since I’ve had your cooking.”

“Oh, Sir Link, how generous of you, making your guest work!” Wild elbows him with their one good arm. “You see your dear sweet baby brother again after all this time-”

“You’re almost thirty, for Hylia’s sake!”

“Your BABY BROTHER,” Wild continues, “And all you can think about is what they can do for you.”

Suddenly and swiftly, Warriors pulls Wild into a headlock. “Why is it that every hero I meet is such a brat, huh?” he wonders aloud. “First the old man, then the sailor, and now you?”

“Don’t count yourself out, Commander,” Wild retorts, wiggling their way out of Wars’ grasp. “By the way, congrats on that promotion.”

“That was ages ago, it’s like you don’t keep up with me,” Wars scoffs playfully. “But seriously, I need you to cook for me again. I haven’t been the same without your home-cooked breakfasts.”

“Well, if you insist,” Wild relents. “Though I’m going to need a certain sous chef to help me.”

“That’s only fair,” Wars nods in agreement.

Warriors’ home is a townhouse deep in the heart of Castle Town, surrounded by a tall iron fence with pointed tips. The lawn is perfectly manicured, evenly cut grass and freshly trimmed roses. He’s silent as he unlocks the gate, as he leads Wild inside. Wars quickly closes the door behind them both, the sunlight trickling through the windows the only thing illuminating the darkened foyer.

It’s grand inside, that’s for sure. The blue carpet is soft and plush, and the wooden walls are filled with paintings and pictures. But something about it is… empty. Warriors awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck at Wild’s gaze.

“Kinda quiet around here,” Wild comments, but their face goes red when they realize the harshness of their words. “Uh, I mean it’s a really nice place you’ve got, Wars! You must be doing-”

Warriors suddenly places a hand behind Wild’s back, ushering them forward. “Yes, well, Althai is with his mother this week. Come on, the kitchen is this way.”

“Althai?” Wild cocks their head. “Wars, do you have a kid?”

“Yes, but-”

Wild side steps away from Wars. “Wait, I want to meet him!”

“We can’t right now, Wild,” Warriors pinches the bridge of his nose, an irritated scowl on his face that reminds Wild of the old man. “Freya and I aren’t… together anymore, and I’d rather not face her wrath if I showed up unannounced.”

Wild blinks. “Oh, I see.”

“So!” Wars quickly snaps out of it. “How about we avoid all that, and instead, we can make your breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Wild smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was thinking crepes. You still like those, right?”

The tension fades away from Wars, and he grins back at his brother. “I’ve always loved your crepes.”

- - -

“You know, I never took you as the braiding type,” Wild remarks over a mouthful of honey crepe.

“Don’t talk while you’re eating,” Wars instinctively responds, one hand focused on Wild’s hair while he uses the other to take a bite of his own crepe.

“Aw, you sound like Zelda,” Wild pouts.

“How’s she doing, by the way?” Warriors asks. “You as well. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“We’re both doing good,” Wild announces. “I mean, after the whole revival of Ganondorf business—which is long over, by the way, please don’t worry about that—things have been quiet.” They gasp. “I have a niece now!”

“You do, huh?” Warriors says. “We’re getting old.”

“Ick, don’t remind me,” Wild sticks their tongue out. “I’m planning on staying as young and childlike as possible.”

“Again, you’re almost thirty.”

“Shut up!”

Warriors laughs at Wild’s outburst. He finishes the end of Wild’s braid, securing it with a hair tie. “All done.”

“Thanks for that, Wars,” Wild says as Wars loops around to sit across from them. “I usually get Sidon to do it, but with the one arm-”

Warriors raises a hand to stop them. “I get it, don’t worry.” His face sours quickly. “We should address the moblin in the room.”

“Right,” Wild sighs. “I definitely should not be here.”

“You’re not an unwelcome guest, but…” Warriors crosses his hands in front of him. “I haven’t heard of any black-blooded monsters again, have you?”

Wild shakes their head. “Nothing of the sort.”

“So whatever issue this is, it’s new,” he reasons. “How likely do you think it is that the two of us will be dragged away to another time together?”

“Based on past experience?” Wild questions. “That will almost certainly happen.”

“Great,” Wars rubs at his temples in agitation.

“Honestly, I’m just glad to get in at the beginning this time,” Wild admits. “You guys already knew everything by the time I joined! That wasn’t fair.”

“Easy, soldier,” Wars pats their head, much to Wild’s chagrin. “Eat up, it seems like we have somewhere to be soon.”

Wild raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Congratulations, you’re going to meet your nephew,” Wars grimaces, crossing his arms together. “We’re going to my ex-wife’s house.”

- - -

"Just let me do the talking."

Wild shoots Wars a suspicious look. The two of them are standing in front of an ornate wooden door, leading into a nice stone house on the edge of the city. "She can't be that bad."

"Whatever you're thinking, Freya's worse," Warriors insists, practically sweating bullets.

Wild rolls their eyes, before reaching forward and slamming the iron knocker into the door repeatedly.

"Wild!" Warriors grabs their hand, yanking them back.

"You were taking too long!"

"I would have knocked eventually, now I have to rush through this," he hisses, pulling Wild up to eye level. "Don't annoy her, don't break anything. Don't be yourself."

"That's so rude!" Wild squirms in his grasp. "Let go, I've only got the one arm!"

“Link?”

Wars drops Wild onto the stone steps below them as he finally notices Freya at the door. She has long, dark, curled hair, pulled back into a bun. She worriedly looks down at Wild, who’s pouting on the floor at their aches.

“Freya!” Wars immediately has a wary smile on his face. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“Uh, yes…” she claps her hand together, suddenly gesturing inside. “Please, please, come in!” Freya turns over her shoulder and yells, “Althai! Your dad’s here!”

“Dad!” a small voice shouts from elsewhere, and suddenly, a child darts in and latches onto Wars’ leg. “Dad, I missed you!”

“Let me see you!” Wars lifts the kid, holding him up to his face. Aside from his tan complexion and curls, Althai is a little clone of his father, with freckled cheeks and shiny gold hair. “How are you bigger already, Alt? It’s only been a few days!”

Althai giggles, and much to Wild’s surprise, Freya laughs as well.

As Warriors turns to Wild, he balances his son on his hip. “Althai, this is your Uncle Wild.”

“Oh.” Noticing Wild for the first time, Althai almost turns smaller in his father’s grasp. “Hi,” he says, shyly offering a little hand for Wild.

“It’s nice to meet you, Althai,” Wild smiles warmly, shaking his hand.

“Uncle Wild, huh?” Freya abruptly speaks up, a scowl on her face. “Althai, how about you show our guest the garden?” Her gaze turns to Wars, who swallows nervously as he places his son back on the ground. “I need to talk to your father.”

“Um. Okay,” Althai takes Wild’s hand, guiding them past his parents. “This way.”

“Alright,” Wild agrees. Before Althai can drag them away completely, they wink at Wars. A viable alternative for a thumbs up, of course.

- - -

Freya keeps a nice garden, Wild decides. They’re sitting on the stone path, dividing the flowers from the herbs. It’s well-manicured, unlike Wild’s own attempt at a vegetable garden a few years back. Bees buzz by, which they idly watch fly along.

Althai’s got his nose buried in a book, but since he’s a kid, Wild’s willing to let such a faux pas slide. He hasn’t said a word since they left the house, though, and they’re starting to get a bit antsy.

“So…” Wild drums their fingers on their leg. “What’re you reading?”

“Uh, it’s a book,” Althai says.

Wild nods. “Sure, sure. Of course.”

Silence hangs over the two of them again. This kid is nothing like the little firecracker Zelly is, Wild realizes.

“Do you really have one arm?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Wild lifts their poncho, showing off their missing arm again. “See? Pretty cool, huh?”

“Woah.” Althai abandons his book, inspecting them closer. “How did it happen?”

“Ohhhh, what a story,” Wild recounts, putting on their best spooky voice. “I was journeying through some caves with my friend, when suddenly, we came upon this evil man, who was put down there for trying to hurt Hyrule. When we got close, he heard us and woke up! And then, he used his evil, corrosive magic to-”

“Eep!” Althai shouts, hiding his face in the green cloth of Wild’s poncho.

Fuck!

“No, no!” Wild tries to amend, pulling back the poncho to reveal Althai’s face. “I was just- I was kidding! The arm was sick, and we had to get rid of it so I could be healthy. No bad men! No evil magic!”

“Oh,” Althai sits on the ground next to Wild. “Okay.”

Wild ruffles his hair. “You like stories, don’t you, kid?”

“Yeah,” Althai picks at the grass.

“Well, has your dad ever told you the story about his journey with the other Heroes across time?”

Althai perks up, nodding. “Mhm! All the Links!”

“Well, did you know I’m one of those Links?” Wild gestures to themself. “It’s true! I’m from thousands of years in the future!”

Althai gasps. “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” Wild confirms. “You know, I’ve got a few stories about your dad from back then. Stories I’m sure he never told you.”

“Tell me!” Althai jumps up, tugging on Wild’s shoulder. “Tell me tell me tell me!”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” Wild pulls the kid into their lap. “How about… the time we lost him on the coldest mountain in Hyrule?”

- - -

“So,” Freya crosses her arms, looking out the window. Her ex-husband sits across from her at the kitchen table. “That’s the Hero of the Wild in my backyard, isn’t it?”

“Er, yes,” Wars awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “Yes it is.”

“Alright, Link,” she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “What happened?”

"Freya, please, it's none of your concern."

"None of my-?!" Freya is taken aback. "How about this, Link. Is it another journey?"

Warriors nods. "Most likely, yes."

"So then Althai needs to stay with me for who knows how long," she reasons. "Which means I need to get his things from your place, and I'll be making the trip to his school to pick him up for weeks. Not to mention the fact that I'll have to comfort my kid over his father's absence."

"I don't have a choice!" Wars reminds her. "Do you think I want to miss my time with Althai?"

"I'm not saying that, Link!" Freya corrects. "I'm saying that this very obviously affects me, whether you'll admit it or not." She covers his hand with her own. "Tell me what happened, alright? Just because we're not married doesn't mean we can't be friends."

Friends, huh?

"I know you're excited to see Wild, again," Freya smiles. "It's been so long, you're allowed to want to see your friends."

"Even if it means leaving Althai?" Warriors frowns. He flips his hand to hold hers.

"He'll be alright," Freya says. "He's tough, just like his dad. He'll be waiting here when you get back."

"When I get back," Wars echoes. "Yes, you're right! We'll visit when we can, and you and Althai can meet all of them!" Wars suddenly takes both her hands. "I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"Thank you, Link," Freya sighs in relief. "How about we invite those two rascals back in? I'd love to get to know your brother."

"That's a great idea," Warriors grins. "I knew you were my best idea maker."

"Always have been."

- - -

“I’ll see you soon, Alty,” Wild kneels down to pat the kid’s head. “Remember, if your dad doesn’t let you do something, tell him that Uncle Legend would.”

“Wild, what are you telling my kid?” Wars crosses his arms and scowls. Once again, the image of Time and his disappointing glare comes right to Wild’s mind.

“Nothing!” Wild steps aside. “Just saying he should stay in school! Stuff like that!”

“Sure.” Wild can tell by his tone that Warriors doesn’t believe them, but he instead chooses to scoop Althai up in a hug. “Be good for your mother, my little bookworm. I’ll be back soon! Once this is all done, I’m taking you for ice cream.”

“Alright, Dad!” Althai giggles, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you.” With his free hand, Wars digs through his pockets, producing a key that he offers to Freya. “This is my spare key. Take it, it’s yours.”

“Why thank you, Sir Link,” Freya graciously takes the key. “I’ll be sure to keep all your plants watered.”

And so, Wild and Wars find themselves back on the road, walking side by side as the sun sets. Wild takes a deep breath and sighs, enjoying the fresh air.

This is it.

“You know, Freya was actually very nice,” Wild says, smirking.

Warriors scoffs. “Oh, quiet you.”

“You’re still so dramatic,” they remark. “I can’t believe a word you say.”

“Hush,” Wars wraps an arm around Wild’s shoulder, drawing them close. “I’m trying to enjoy having my brother back, and you’re ruining it.”

Wild laughs, but before they can respond with their own witty comeback, there’s a bright light. Blinking through the brightness, the heroes find a portal in front of them, its golden swirls welcoming and inviting.

“Well, I guess it’s time,” Wild says. “You ready, Commander?”

“I guess I am, Chef,” Wars smiles.

“Aw, it’s cute you think I’m professionally trained.”

And so, once again, two of Hylia’s heroes step through a portal again, with neither an idea of where they’re going nor a care in the world.

#linked universe #lu wild #lu warriors #reunion tour au #rav's writing #fanfic

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

A Little Braver - 21

Hello everyone,

as I am about to post, itunes has just started playing the song A Little Braver that i used as an inspiration for this title of this fic. I can’t believe it’s already time for ch 21. One more chapter and Rowan is back.

A few things before I let you go. It’s Lys and Aedion’s wedding. The location used as an inspiration is this: https://www.visitscotland.com/info/see-do/duff-house-p246341 the place is called Duff House and is in Banff, about two hours from where I live. It’s a gorgeous place.

Secondly, I am the worst at describing clothes. so in order to give you an idea of the dress Lys is wearing here we go: https://www.weddingdressfantasy.com/products/light-blue-tulle-wedding-dress.html. (I absolutely detest white wedding dresses)

Thirdly, In the fic you will noticed a first of a Sorscha/Dorian - let me explain. I am not the greatest Manorian fan, to be honest it just leaves meh. Also, in this fic they can’t happen. He is the Chief. she is a firefighter with a chance to become an officer. He is her superior. He just can’t.

And finally, in the conversation with Aelin, Rowan talks a bit about how bad it is. He also goes incommunicado for stretches of time. All I am saying is that parts of this will came back in later chapters when he finally tells her what happened. Only then, we will learn how bad it was.

I think I finished my announcements and I can leave you to the chapter

Aelin’s alarm went off far too early for her taste. Her hand slammed her phone and stopped the annoying sound, then she rolled and hugged again bird Rowan and buried her face in his pillow inhaling his scent in what had become her routine since he had left.

“Good morning, my friend.” She muttered in the pillow then stared at the toy “do we want to go to work?” She groaned and grabbed her phone and found a message from Rowan. It had the picture of a gorgeous red sunrise in the background of a busy flight deck Had a night from hell, but this view lifts my spirits up a bit.

She read the message and panic rose so she tried to phone him and luckily he answered at the first ring.

“Hey,” his voice was strained and Aelin’s heart started to race in fear.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just a bad night and we lost few pilots. I have known them for a very long time and served together a lot as well. Some had wife and kids.” He said very softly, his voice almost broke by the tears he was probably trying not to shed over the phone.

“I am sorry.” Was her pitiful reply but she was not good at consoling people. Then her treacherous mind started telling her that it could have been him and she almost felt sick.

She heard him sigh deeply as an alarm started blaring in the background “I gotta go. Sorry. I will phone you as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry. I am at work on my usual super long shift.”

“Stay safe,” he said with a worried tone.

“You as well, please. I am getting used having you around the house.”

He chuckled lightly “I enjoy being around the house too.”

Then she heard a voice calling every one to battle station “Fuck. Sorry gotta run. Love you.”

And he hang up after those words, probably sprinting out of his quarters or wherever he was. Even her, in her limited knowledge of military life knew that a call for battle stations was not a good sign. That was what all her sci-fi movies told her.

Aelin took a shower and slowly got dressed for work and mentally prepared herself for another long day, probably a visit to detective Ytger

She arrived at the station not long after and went to her office and Aedion met her there a moment later.

She had received an email from the detective and she had expected the woman to be there already.

“The detective is on her way.” She told her cousin while he sat down.

“Do you think we are in trouble?”

Aelin shrugged “those clubs had to be closed down.”

“I know. I am just worried. He has to know by now that it came from us and I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

She sighed again, meeting his worried stare “you are not alone in that. We probably made a big enemy but he has to pay somehow.”

Aedion was about to reply when a knock on the door interrupted her.

“Come in,”

The door opened and Aelin recognised the detective “sorry, one of your team members showed me to your office, I told them you were expecting me.”

“Take a seat detective, Aedion and I were just catching up.”

She took out a thick folder from the messenger bag she was carrying and placed the file on Aelin’s desk “All we have about Hamel so far, and officer Westfall gave me a report of last night.”

Aelin grabbed a file of her own and passed it to the woman in front of her “before leaving the club I called my relief captain and told him what was happening. He made it pass like an anonymous call but after what I told him and what he discovered it was in our jurisdiction to close the place.”

“It’s in your authority to give him a prohibition notice but as you know as well he has a right to appeal and contest your findings and I have a feeling his lawyers are already at work to stop that.”

“Those places are a disaster waiting to happen. As captain I cannot leave them functioning knowing what I saw last night.”

The woman nodded in understanding “Captain, I am on your side and my superiors agree as well. Hamel has caused enough problems for a long time and needs to be stopped.”

“We can close all of his clubs, but you tell me his lawyers bail him out every time. We cannot win this.”

“We have further leads and a few agents undercover working on them. That’s all I can say. The operation is quite secret.”

“I hope you will succeed, detective.”

“We will keep you in the loop,” she made a movement to stand but paused halfway “Hamel is a nasty customer. Keep an eye out. Just be careful.” She nodded at both of them and then excused herself saying she had to go back to the precinct.

Aelin was about to add something else but Brullo barged in her office all panicked “Cap, Lieutenant, you need to come immediately.”

The two stood quickly and followed the man outside and to the area where the engine and truck were parked. Brullo pointed at something behind the two rigs: a medium-sized parcel.

“We were all in the common room, then I came through here and I saw it. I did not touch it, I came straight to you, sir.”

Aedion nodded “Aelin grab the whole team and get out of here.”

She looked at him in protest.

“As a precaution. This is my area.”

Aelin nodded, if that was an actual bomb he was the only one who could actually do something.

“I’ll call the police and bomb squad.” Aelin took her phone out but Aedion stopped her.

“Not here, remember basic bomb training? Radio signals can trigger it. Grab the team and get out of the firehouse.” He ordered her, that was his field and Aelin would gladly let him take charge.

“Ok, but you be careful, please.”

Aedion nodded and went to get his bomb suit while Aelin and Brullo went to gather the rest of the team and evacuate the premises as asked.

It was half an hour later when Aelin got the all clear from Aedion and ran back to the station with Lysandra just as nervous as she had been.

Aedion had removed his suit and was back in his uniform.

He walked to the two women and nodded at Aelin, confirming that it was a real bomb he had just defused. He then handed her a message that had been taped inside the box.

This is only the beginning. You made a big mistake.

Aelin swore loudly.

“What’s going on?” Asked Lysandra who had no idea of the whole Hamel situation, just like the rest of the team.

“Station meeting,” called Aelin as the rest of the team marched back in.

Aedion took everyone in the communal area while Aelin called detective Ytger to tell her about the bomb they had received. The woman had asked to keep the artefact as proof and that the bomb squad was on its way to collect it to add to their investigation.

She closed the call and joined the rest of the team and braced herself to tell them the truth she and Aedion had omitted for their protection.

“Ok, everyone, I need your attention because what I am about to tell you is quite serious.” She started, staring at her team with dread in her guts.

“Was that a real bomb?” Asked Manon.

Aedion nodded.

“Remember the call we had at the Vaults? Only Aedion and I went in. The kitchen caught fire and two people died. The whole place was not up to code. So Aedion and I confronted the owner who did not seem to care. Threats have been exchanged. Aedion and I started working with the police and the owner of the club is apparently high on the list of criminals to remove from the streets.” She kept telling them, unable to read their emotions “the night of my birthday and Lys’ party we went to a club and I did some recon.”

“Is that why you disappeared for so long?”

Aelin nodded “Chaol was there as my back up. As soon as we left I called Pete and told him the situation. He passed the call as an anonymous one and they closed the club.” Then she turned to the male counterpart of the team “at your party, the fire alarm going off? That was Aedion.”

“Our club was a mess as well. I knew Pete was busy as I knew Aelin’s plan so I pulled the fire alarm. That club was shut down as well.” Continued Aedion, not letting the burden of the confession all on Aelin’s shoulders. They had decided together.

“You are two bloody idiots.” Shouted Lysandra “and you thought not to tell us, why?”

Aedion was about to reply but Lys marched to him “and don’t say to bloody protect us. You are not a knight in shining armour.” Her green eyes bore into his with fury.

“We had a chat with the police and we realised the lesser people knew the better.” Added Aelin.

“Not to be disrespectful, cap, but we are your team. We are a family. And you should not keep such things from us.” Ren’s voice broke the momentary silence.

“I know,” said Aelin almost mystified “I was just not expecting an actual bomb landing in our station.”

“What do we do now?” This time it was Elide voicing everyone’s thoughts.

Aelin sighed “stay alert. The police is on the case but I have a feeling it will get worse before it gets better.”

“Report anything that looks suspicious to us either of us.”

The team nodded. And Aelin dismissed them all and they all went back to their duties.

The night had been long and they had far too many calls for her taste, but the shift had finished with no more drama and no more bombs and she called it a success, although she could not push away the constant feeling of doom in her guts. That bomb and the message had been clear. Hamel was not going to forget how both she and Aedion had confronted him.

She parked the car in her spot and the sight of Rowan’s reminded her that he would not be at home waiting for her. She hadn’t heard from his since the day before and she hoped he was fine. He sounded down. She had texted him once but received no reply.

She grabbed her bag and got back inside her house, looking forward to a very long relaxing shower. She walked to her bedroom, removed her shirt when powerful arms grabbed her from behind and a blade appeared at her neck “now, captain, you behave like a good girl and not a peep or I’ll slice your throat.”

Aelin nodded silently.

“Good,” his voice near her ear. Then she felt his lips on her neck “you are such a nice treat.” She realised too late she was just in a bra and Aelin felt his disgusting hand slither up to her chest. Rage rose through her “you know? I haven’t had a tumble with a woman in a long time. I might just have my way with you before I kill you.”

Hell no, thought Aelin.

With what little she remembered about self defence that Aedion had thought her she kicked the man in the nuts then grabbed the arm he had around her neck and with a powerful move she just threw him on the floor. His head slamming hard falling unconscious on the spot.

In a frenzy she grabbed her phone from her back pocket and called Chaol.

“Hey,”

“Hi. Are you on shift?” She asked him, voice trembling.

“Yes, out on patrol.”

“Good. I need you at my house. Someone just broke in and attacked me.” She explained while trying to calm down the anger.

“Ok, I will be there as soon as I can. You haven’t moved, have you?”

“No, still same address.”

She sat beside the unconscious man and kicked the blade away with her shoe. And then she tried very hard not to cry.

“Aelin, it’s me.” A knock on the door woke her up from her shocked state. She grabbed the blanket she had on her bed and wrapped it around her and went to open the door to Chaol. Beside him stood a woman, his partner. She had met Nesryn many times before.

Chaol noted her state “are you okay?”

She walked to the bed and sat down staring at the man on the floor.

“He is unconscious,” said the other woman while cuffing the perp.

Chaol stopped in front of her “what happened?”

“I just got home from my shift. I got in the house and he attacked me while I was getting changed. He put a knife at my throat.” And she pointed at the weapon on the floor.

Nesryn came off the phone “detective Ytger is on her way.” Then she stood and walked to the kitchen and got some water for Aelin.

“Thank you.”

“He didn’t…” asked Nesryn with caution.

Aelin shook her head “I have no shirt on because I removed it before I was attacked. He just got a nice sight and a squeeze. I stopped him before he could do more.”

Twenty minutes later detective Ytger and a few more detectives arrived in the house inspecting it and collecting any bit of evidence they could, knife first of all.

“Aelin, this is Tern one of Hamel’s men.” said the woman pointing at the still unconscious man cuffed on the floor.

That was good thought Aelin, they could arrest Hamel now?

“We will bring him to the station and interrogate him. But Hamel’s men rarely sing.”

“So he almost killed me and nothing will change?” She stood and shouted “this man came into my house and almost got me.” And she pointed at the thin cut at her throat “I am alive because I can defend myself.” She sat back on the bed, hands shaking. She was not going to break down.

“You should come to the station for a statement,” said the detective.

“Would it help?”

“To put Tern away for a while.” Then she shook her head “not yet enough for Hamel.”

Aelin groaned and went to get a clean t-shirt and a hoodie “fine, let’s do this.” And walked to the door of her flat annoyed.

Her time at the police station had felt completely useless. They had asked her for a statement, asked her to recount again what had happened and then again she was told that the chances to finally frame Hamel were still quite low. They had no way prove that Hamel had tried to kill her although the police knew that Tern worked for Hamel. She was slowly losing any hope and confidence in the police.

Once the detectives had left, Chaol sat with her in the interrogation room “are you sure you are fine?” His voice full of worry as his brown eyes stared at her.

“Yeah.” She said flatly “I just want to go to bed. I came off the night shift and I am tired.”

“Your house is still a crime scene.”

Aelin swore loudly “what am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe Aedion can take you in until you get your place back.”

“I don’t want strangers in my house or in my bedroom.” She snapped. She did not want anyone going to her bedroom and possibly touching his stuff.

“They have to.”

“They got the knife, and Tern, what more do they need?” She stood and started pacing frantically and Chaol knew she was not okay.

“I am calling Aedion.” The man took his phone out and phoned her cousin explaining him what happened and that she needed a place to stay for probably a day.

Aelin sat back on the chair and tried very hard to not to break down. She was tired and furious and with a deep desire of smashing something. She felt tears sting her eyes and fought them hard. But the rage was like a wildfire inside her.

The bastard was trying to kill her. How dared he?

“Aedion and Lys are on their way.” Chaol came back and sat down again beside her and pulled her closer.

“I thought we were doing the right thing,” she said quietly “that man belongs to a jail. How dare he think he can get me killed because I am doing my job?” She was seething then peeled away from Chaol’s attempt at comfort and resumed pacing feeling restless.

“I’ll go and sleep at the station.” Aelin stopped and Chaol noticed her shoulders slump in exhaustion.

He grabbed her hand and stopped her. She needed to be with someone close to her. He had known Aelin for a very long time. The police tended to work a lot with them and eventually Chaol got to know the entire fire station: both east and west. But that was the first time he saw Aelin in that state. He had seen her run into fires without batting an eyelid but that day she was truly scared.

“Wait for them, you need company tonight.”

It was a good half an hour later when Lysandra and Aedion made their way inside the police station and Lysandra ran to Aelin as soon as she spotted her friend. The two women embraced fiercely and Aelin burst into tears as soon as she was in the other woman’s arms.

In the meantime Chaol took Aedion aside and explained to him what happened.

“Are you okay?” Lysandra took Aelin’s face in her hand and green eyes met blue “you are coming with us, Ae and I will look after you.”

Aelin shook her head “you have a wedding to prepare for. I will sleep at the station. I am fine.”

Lysandra sighed in exasperation “Aedion, you tell her she is coming with us and not going to camp at the fire station.”

Aedion walked slowly to his cousin and kissed her head “there is no way you are sleeping at the station. We have a spare room. And stop being stubborn or I call flying boy and tell him to have a chat with you.”

Aelin’s heart sank. She did not want Rowan to know, at least not while he was away. He was already having a rough time as it was. He could not worry about her as well. And for something like this he would downright freak out.

“Fine.” She yielded.

The drive home had been quiet, Aelin sat at the back of the car and leaned her face against the window staring at the city passing by. The fury had somehow calmed down but the whole attack had thrown her off “Ae, I need you to teach me better hand to hand combat. I keep thinking that I am alive because you taught me some manoeuvres to defend myself.”

“We can do that and if any of the other ladies in the team want to join I can do it for all of you.”

Aelin saw Lysandra put a hand on Aedion’s on the stick. Knowing him he was probably beating himself for not protecting her properly.

They stopped at the traffic lights and Aedion slammed his hand on the steering wheel in rage “first that bomb and now this. I want the man’s head on a silver plate.”

“The police has no proof.” Said Aelin with such a flat tone that Aedion worried seriously. She had just recovered from all the fire ordeal. She could not go through another breakdown. And this time Rowan wasn’t even there.

Aedion breathed out and relaxed as the lights turned green. They arrived at their house not long after and once inside Lysandra took Aelin to her temporary room. When she came back she had a bundle of clothes for her.

“These are mine.” She handed her over the bundle “I have spare toiletries and towels if you need a shower. I will ask Aedion to make lunch.”

Aelin shook her head “I am just taking a shower and going to bed. I don’t feel hungry and definitely not in the mood for company.”

Lysandra hugged her “we’ll set aside some food so if you are hungry later on, it’s there.”

Aelin’s arms tightened around her friend’s body “thank you for having me.”

“Always,” Lysandra pulled back and searched for Aelin’s stare “especially now that the captain is away. We are here.” And with that she left.

Her shower had been long as she had the need to scrub off her body from the contact with the assailant. Remove the memory of his touch on her skin. Once she felt clean again she went back to her room and curled up in bed. She wanted to speak to Rowan but was afraid she would crumble. But the weak part of her needed to hear his voice and know he was okay. So she gathered some courage and called him.

Aelin was about to hang up when he finally answered.

“Hi trouble.

“Such loving words to say to your girlfriend.”

“Keep me company while I walk back to my quarters.”

“I just got out of the shower. I only have my bathrobe on.”

“Cruel, cruel woman.”

Aelin grinned and snapped a picture of her, the robe slightly open to show her legs and part of her breasts to tease him “you better get to your quarters before looking at the photo I just sent you.”

She heard a door slam and a much quieter background and Rowan was silent for a while.

“Are you still alive?”

Rowan groaned “it’s a good thing that I need to take a shower.”

Aelin laughed loudly at the joke. Speaking to him was lifting the cloud of doom that had landed on her “You might need more than your military style two minutes.”

“After the photo I will be happy to get a cold one.” He was silent for a while and she heard some rustling.

“My turn for revenge.”

Aelin looked at her phone and she had two pictures one was him in his jumpsuit how she liked him, the second was him with his bare torso and this time it was Aelin’s turn to groan “seriously, when you come back I am taking a week off, we are going back to the cabin in the woods and spend the whole week in bed having sex.”

It was Rowan’s turn to laugh “you will not hear me complain.”

“I miss you so much.” And she tried very hard not to cry, it would make things much worse and he would fuss and worry. And he was away and she could not distract him because his job was dangerous and she needed him to come back. Badly.

Rowan sighed on his end “Yeah, not having a great time either.” He said softly “how is Elide coping?”

“She just tries to ignore it and stays strong.”

“Lorcan is miserable. And all the shit that is going down is not helping.”

Aelin hugged the pillow “Ro, I know that you can’t tell me anything but are you guys okay?”

She heard Rowan loose a long breath “it’s not the first time we are in a bad situation. It has just been very exhausting and we have been pulling crazy patrol shifts.” He explained “that’s why I haven’t been texting you back. I just got off a 12hrs patrol. I think the whole team is already in bed.”

“Even the twins?”

“Yeah, we have been so busy that they had no time to indulge in any illicit activities.”

Aelin smiled “ohh poor Fenrys.”

“I already have enough on my plate. I don’t have time to deal with his stupidity.”

Aelin smirked in the camera “can I distract you, captain?” Swiftly Aelin opened the belt of her robe exposing her naked form to him.

Rowan hissed a breath “Aelin…” his voice strained “you are not helping…”

“Just cheering you up.” She bent her legs, her hand brushing slowly her stomach in a sensual motion.

Rowan growled and Aelin noticed him standing and pacing.

“Problems, captain? You seem on edge….”

He looked at her in the camera, took in her long legs and the swell of her breasts and pushed aside his need for her “were I there, you’d be against a wall right now.”

Aelin cackled in response.

“Fuck, Aelin, this is torture.” His voice harsher than meant to. Her brows furrowed “I did not meant it like that…” he corrected himself very quickly “I love this. Very much. But I can’t be there and it’s killing me.”

Aelin closed her robe back in understanding “Sorry…”

“Hey,” he said very softly and felt like a bastard “you cheered me up.” His eyes rolled “more than expected.”

Aelin laughed “I guess that shower will really be long now.”

“Definitely more than three minutes.” She saw him going back on the bed, stripping off his jump suit and remaining in a t-shirt and boxer briefs.

“Nice ass, Whitethorn.”

Rowan laughed again and she loved hearing that sound from him “Is it okay if I leave you now? It’s dinner time on the ship and I hate being late because the best stuff is gone.”

“No,” she said softly “go, take that shower and have some food.”

He stood and looked at her in the camera “thank you.” He blew her a kiss “I love you.”

“Same here. Very much.” She sighed, dreading the end of the conversation “Go.”

“Okay. Hanging up now…” he waved at her and waved back and eventually hung up the call and Aelin collapsed down in bed with heaviness and sadness.

Then she got up and wore some clothes and left the room to join Aedion and Lys. They had been nice to her and she did not want to offend them. Also, speaking with Rowan had calmed her fears a bit.

Once in the kitchen she joined her friends.

“Look who has a big smile. Phone sex with the captain?”

Aelin chuckled and shook her head sitting down beside Lysandra. Aedion passed her a huge portion of food.

“You can totally have sex phone with him, Ae and I will not judge.”

Aelin took a bit of her food and hummed happily. Aedion was a great cook “he had to shower and then dinner. Meals are on set times.”

“And suck most of the times, but maybe the posh gangs on the boats have fancy cooks. Sometimes we had to survive on military ration packs.” he explained eating eagerly his food “as soon as I retired I learned how to cook.”

“And you are awesome at it.” Lysandra brushed her hand on his arm.

“Guys, thank you for having me over.” She felt as if she hadn’t thanked them properly. It was a few days before their wedding and she hated being a burden.

“Hey, we are here. And you know that when Rowan is away you can stay with us if you feel lonely.”

“I can always babysit once you make me aunt Aelin.”

Lysandra laughed “hold your horses lady, he gets to marry me… for his progeny he will have to wait.”

“Imagine cute blonde babies with green eyes.”

“I can definitely imagine kids between you and the captain.”

Aelin almost chocked on her food “seriously, Lys, you can’t just blurt out stuff like that.”

“Why?” She asked innocently and Aedion elbowed her.

“We just finished fighting and barely started figuring out things. I leave the whole marriage thing to you, for now.”

Lysandra sighed and did not push. She knew it was a tough topic for Aelin. She and Sam had been months away from getting married before he died and she knew they had the whole kids chat and had planed a family “Fine.”

They finished dinner and Aelin offered to help clean up, it was the least she could do. The three of them camped on the sofa and chatted for a few hours then Aelin started yawning and excused herself to bed. She had a long crappy day.

***

It was the weekend and the big day for Lys and Aedion. Aelin had returned home two days after the attack. The police had contacted her telling her that the house was released back and she had gone back as soon as she could. Lysandra and Aedion had driven her home and spent some time with her making sure she was fine being there again. Aelin, being her stubborn self, had sworn she was fine but had started playing music all the time to try and hide the silence in the house. The first thing she did was to flop on the bed and inhale Rowan’s scent and hug bird Rowan like an addict.

She was about to get dressed when her phone went off.

“Oh look who is calling.” She hadn’t heard from him since their last conversation and although she knew it would happen it would always make her nervous.

“How is my girl doing?” Since they had put an official label in their relationship, he had become even more affectionate and had also started using cute nicknames for her on top of Fireheart which still was the main one he used. All their barriers had officially fallen and distance was the only thing separating them. She loved this new take in their relationship. She was just looking forward to him coming back and finally ask him the question she had been pondering for weeks.

“Great. It’s Lys and Aedion’s wedding day. I was just getting ready.”

“Will I get to see in you in your maid of honour’s dress?”

“If you behave,” she teased while removing her pyjama “how are you doing?”

“I am on downtime… until some shit happens and we have to scramble no matter what.”

“That sucks.”

Rowan sighed “I know, but that’s how it works.”

Aelin put the phone on the bed and on speaker phone “Keep talking, I am just getting dressed and I got you on speaker phone.”

“I really hate I can’t be there.” Then he stopped “you are not taking another man, are you?”

Aelin laughed. Him playing jealous boyfriend was cute “Brullo is accompanying me and Ress is taking Elide. They are just being nice, don’t worry.”

“Fine, I’ll trust them to keep their hands to themselves.”

“Jealous much, captain?”

Rowan just grunted something unintelligible.

She finished pulling up the dress and with some acrobatics she did manage to zip it up as well “that’s when I need you here. To zip up my dress.” She groaned after the feat just accomplished.

“Honestly, I’d rather zip it down.” Aelin could hear him smile.

Then she grabbed her phone and switched on the camera “here we go, Buzzard. My hair is not done yet, neither my make up, but you can see the dress.”

It was a long light blue dress that would match the bride’s colour. The skirt pooled at her feet and with a squared neckline. It was very simple. Rowan had switched on the camera as well and from his expression she could see it was effective as well “so?”

He swallowed hard “I assume you have underwear this time?”

“Yes, it’s not as tight as the black one, so it does not look bad.”

“Again… it really sucks not to be there.”

She twirled for him “is that all you have, captain?” Then Aelin took a seat at the vanity dressing table and started fixing her hair while the phone was leaning against the mirror.

“I have so many naughty thoughts just now… that if I were there we would definitely be late for the wedding.”

Aelin cackled in joy. Once her hair was pulled up in a nice style she opened the small jewellery box in front of her and pulled out the necklace he had given her and showed it to him “recognise this?”

His face lit up in a beautiful smile “you are wearing it?”

Aelin nodded “I always do when I am not on shift. It’s always together with your dog tags.”

“I love you.” He said to her with a tenderness that melted her heart.

The buzzer in her house went off “this must be Elide. We are going together. Go and call Lorcan.”

Aelin stood and saw Rowan doing the same. When she got back with Elide she noticed Lorcan in the image “Commodore, thank you for joining us.” Then she grabbed Elide’s arm and pulled her in the picture as well and saw an array of emotions pass through the usually stone faced man.

“Hi Lor,” said Elide timidly.

“Elide…” was the only thing he managed to say. The woman had a dress matching Aelin’s. Lysandra had chosen both of them to be her maid of honour.

“Isn’t she stunning?” She teased, loving to see the man actually showing emotions.

“Very, very much.” And no one missed the tenderness in the comment.

“Well, boys… these two ladies here have to go to a wedding so the gawking stops here.”

“Have a good time, okay?” Said Rowan, while Lorcan was still busy admiring Elide “and leave the other men alone.”

“You two enjoy your downtime and your cold showers….” She winked at them wickedly then she grabbed the phone and walked away for a moment of privacy for her goodbye to Rowan.

Once she was done she walked back to Elide who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So, our fearless and cold commodore has emotions after all.”

Elide nodded “he just shows very little of them. But he has been calling me every time he can and well… he has been kind and he actually said he missed me. I think for him is the equivalent of saying I love you.”

Aelin hugged Elide “I am so happy he is being nice to you.”

The two finished getting ready and eventually left the house, Aelin saying goodbye to bird Rowan before leaving.

The wedding venue was an estate just outside town. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the ceremony would be held outside and then the buffet and the celebrations inside in the great hall.

Aelin and Elide arrived half an hour later and a valet took care of her car.

Together they walked along the long path with trees at both sides. In the distance they could see the mansion and the place looked majestic. A double staircase lead to the upper level but they were guided to the rear of the mansion.

Aelin approached a woman standing and looking like she was in charge of the event “Hi, we are Aelin and Elide, the two maids of honour. Where is Lysandra?”

“She is getting ready. I’ll take you to her.”

The woman lead them to the room “she is in here.”

Aelin and Elide entered and Aelin gasped amazed when she saw Lys, standing in the middle of the room. She was beautiful. The dress was light blue. Lys had told them she refused to wear white. The gown was in tulle, the corset was covered in lace with a floral pattern which continued along the gown, and a strap in tulle as well sneaked on the left shoulder.

Her dark hair was bound in a nice complicated bun with some flowers pinned in it.

Aelin took a step to her friend “Lys, you look amazing. You are going to give Aedion a heart attack.”

“Do you like it?” She pirouetted for them.

“You look like a princess,” said Elide dreamingly.

“The dress looked amazing in the picture but on you is even better.” Aelin sat on the bed “how are you feeling?”

“Nervous I think? Which everyone is telling me is normal.” She confessed.

Lysandra looked at her friends “did you send a picture of you two to your boys far away?”

Aelin smiled “I was having a video call with Rowan when Elide arrived. You should have seen Lorcan’s face. The man was speechless when he saw Elide.”

“Oh sure because Rowan was disgusted…” joked Elide.

Aelin chuckled and thought about his reaction “definitely not…”

The three women chatted and gossiped for a while until the woman who had walked them to the room came back announcing that it was time to get to their positions and that the groom was already at the altar.

“We’ll see you up there.” Aelin hugged Lys again and the woman nodded.

Aelin and Elide were taken where the other bridesmaids were, and their male companions.

Manon, Asterin and Ansel were already there and the rest of the team as well.

Brullo walked to Aelin and offered her his arm “captan, would you do me the honour?”

Aelin took his arm in hers and wore at her wrist the corsage he had offered her.

Elide took her place with Ress. Ansel went with Nox, Manon with Ren and Asterin went with Luca. The guys were wearing their dress mess uniform.

Everyone lined up for the procession and Aelin wished she could share such a happy moment with Rowan.

Classical music started playing and the bridesmaids and their partners were told to start walking down the aisle.

As they walked Aelin noticed a lot of familiar faces. All of west station was present, Dorian was sitting toward the front with Sorscha at his side. In another section she noticed Chaol and Yrene and a few more cops. There were a few men in uniform. Aedion had invited some of his ex army mates. She smiled when she saw a few civilians in a sea of uniforms. Both police officers and firefighters had worn their dress mess uniforms and the detectives were the ones mingling in the regular clothes crowd.

Aelin looked at the end of the aisle and noticed Aedion in his dress uniform, standing proud and with a big smile. His hair was tied in a very low ponytail with a red ribbon holding it together.

She was so happy for him and was looking forward to see his face when he saw Lys.

Once at the bottom of the aisle they stopped and Aelin and Elide took their positions and same for Brullo and Ress, walking behind Aedion.

The officiant joined a moment later and a man in an army uniform appeared and Aelin tried to figure out the rank from his insignia. She had learned the airforce ones but still had no clue on army and navy, but from the large cuffs on the wrists of his uniforms she guessed he was quite high up and important to Aedion if he asked him to perform the wedding.

The man patted Aedion’s shoulder and gave him a huge grin.

Eventually the music changed and Lysandra appeared at the bottom of aisle and Aelin stared at her cousin’s expression once he noticed his soon to be wife make an appearance. Lysandra was a lucky woman. She could see the deep love in Aedion’s eyes.

Lysandra walked down the aisle with a little girl, Chaol and Yrene’s daughter, being flower girl.

Aelin smiled as the little girl threw flowers and bowed to the attendees every so often. She was just adorable. Once she was done she turned and bowed one last time and ran back her parents.

Lysandra stopped in front of Aedion and the two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

Once they took their place the officiant started the wedding.

Aelin got distracted by a figure lurking behind one of the trees in the distance. Her stomach in knots in worry. Silently she kept scanning the area without showing any signs of her attention having drifted away from the wedding. And when she spotted a second one her panic rose. The men were dressed in black and clearly hiding. She saw one of them lift something that looked a lot like a rifle. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Everyone duck!” She shouted.

In that instant gun shots echoed in the air.

Aedion threw himself on Lysandra and in that instant Aelin saw a bullet finding its target in his shoulder. Blood spayed from the wound and then Lysandra’s scream followed.

She saw police, detectives and army scrambling into action. She kneeled and pulled Aedion’s body from a panicking Lysandra. Rolled over his body and sighed in relief when she saw him breathing.

She looked up at Brullo and the man was already on the phone with the emergency services.

Aelin used her dress to stop the bleeding and Elide crouched beside Lysandra to calm down the woman.

Aedion had used his body to shield Lysandra as he heard the gun shots. He had acted on pure instincts.

“Lys, he is breathing. He will be okay.” Aelin said to a terrified Lys. Their faces covered in sprayed blood. Elide used her dress to clean Lys’ face. Sorscha joined them quickly “keep the pressure on the wound.” She told Aelin, while she checked him over.

The ambulance arrived pretty quickly and Aelin recognised the paramedics from another unit.

The paramedics took care of the wound and then Aedion was lifted on a gurney.

“Go,” she said to Lys, “we are joining you at the hospital.” The woman nodded in a daze and followed the paramedics.

“Brullo, Ress, stay with Elide.” And she ran away to the police.

She saw detective Ytger dragging a man in cuffs to the exit and probably to a police car.

She joined Chaol who was holding his screaming daughter “They got two but there were more. They had rifles. I saw the army guys spreading along the perimeter.”

“Do you think…?” She asked and Chaol nodded without her having to finish the sentence.

“The bomb, the attack to you… and now this…”

Aelin’s hands fisted in rage.

It had gone too far.

She was going to take Hamel down.

No matter what.

TAGS

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

tillyrubes10

@surielandiareendgame

@aelin-bitch-queen

@bruiseonthefaceofhumanity

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #aedion x lysandra #elide lochan #dorian #angst

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ladykatakuri · 3 years

Text

What`s in a Name

The Bad Batch ( complete with Crosshair and Omega )

Rating: General

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, it is a family story about names. There is an OC in here that was part of the group as cadets though!

Summary: “So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

Notes: This is something i have been thinking about and decided to write because it is just fun. How did they get their names and how do they feel about it? Omega would know a lot about the guys from her time on Kamino, but i am pretty sure that information about how they got their unique names was not deemed important by either the Empire or the Kaminoans so it would not be included in any official report. Their names might be, only to serve as information when dealing with outsiders on missions, but that is about it.

“So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

For a moment the men in front of her look surprised. They have their own unique names and they have had them for a long, long time now. Nobody ever asked how they got them and even among regs it was not something that was important. Afterall, out of all of the clones, Clone Force 99 was different and the regs were not sure what to make of them.

“Well kiddo, I got my name as a cadet on Kamino when I was part of the Domino squad. You know we get our names from our brothers, most of the time right?” Echo looks at Omega, who had turned to look at him as he began to speak.

“Yes I know.” Omega nods and crosses her legs to sit in a more comfortable way, ready to listen to the stories behind the names.

“Well, we were not a very well oiled machine when we started out and our personalities shaped us and gave us our names. I became Echo after they began to complain how I would echo all the orders we had gotten.” He chuckles as he thinks back to those times he spent with the squad, how they went from being a chaotic bunch to a well tuned group of brothers that could take on the entire galaxy, or so it felt to them. “Fives especially loved to name people and he was the first to come up with Echo. I guess that it stuck with me from that moment on.” The recollection of how he had gotten his name has him feel somewhat nostalgic, longing for those times to be revived once more, but most of all to have his closest friend and brother back so he could talk to him again.

Understanding how this memory of old has affected him, Omega turns to the next man she wants to hear from.

Tech, still standing, leaning against the wall while tinkering with yet another project, notices the silence and looks up. “Ah, I suppose it is not much of a mystery how I got my name. After all, the names we clones have mostly symbolize some aspect of our own character. It would be more surprising if we had completely normal human names instead of designations that would suit our abilities or achievements.”

Nodding to the explanation, Omega looks at the man in front of her. “That is true Tech, but sometimes the name is not as obvious or maybe even surprising in it`s origin.”

Surprised by her logical reasoning, Tech smiles. “You are correct, but my name is no surprise. From the moment we were trained as cadets, it was very clear that my mutation had given me a high intelligence and I had a knack for technology. Because I was always working on computers and other tech while learning about anything and everything else, people started to call me that tech kid or that tech weirdo. From that point on I decided to take part of the name and just go by Tech and it is what I have been called ever since.” For his brothers, who knew him well enough, it was clear that despite his bravado, it still stung at times when he thought back to the name calling and how they had all been shunned by the regulars who were not different from all their other batch mates and brothers. Thankfully, as they aged, they also became stronger both physically and mentally and Tech grew immensely in both ways.

As Tech went back to tinkering with whatever he was working on, Omega turned to the next of her family. Only to notice a strong glare coming from the man that has never been one for stories, or many words for that matter. Crosshair just looked at her with his toothpick shoved to the corner of his mouth. Omega grinned at him as she focused her full attention on him.

With a grumble he replaces his toothpick with a new one and relaxes his shoulders for a moment. “Fine. I didn't have much physical strength at first. So I trained a lot when we were cadets and when we did blaster training they realized I was a crack shot. I trained harder and realized it was damn easy to shoot targets, no matter where they were or where I was. I became the best and during some physical testing they realized my eyesight only improved. I got special sniper training and physical training that would enhance all my skills and that is how they started to call me Crosshair.” Crossing his arms was his way of showing that story time was now over and he resumed chewing his toothpick as his attention went to his brother sitting on the floor next to him.

“You forgot to mention why the regs began to call you Crosshair for real though.” Nudging the sniper with his elbow, Wreckers laugh beamed through the hull of the Marauder. “The regs would always try to bully us, anyway they could. You know, because we are different. One night, they pushed Tech and cornered him, ready for a beating and Crosshair locked in on the one that hit him. He was standing pretty far off but he hit that guy good with his dinner plate! Hah! The reg didn`t know what hit him!” Still laughing, thinking back to how the reg fell on his back, surprised by the dinner plate that came flying from across the hallway, Wrecker wheezes as he once more nudges Crosshair against the leg. That's when they started to call him Crosshair. Cuz when he has you in his crosshairs, you are never getting out of it!”

Omega laughs as loud as Wrecker does at the story. “That is awesome! But how did you get your name Wrecker?”

“Well kid, not because I destroyed everything or something. I mean, I didn't always wreck stuff when I was a cadet.” The huff coming from Crosshair stops him from talking for a second. “Hey! I didn't Crosshair! That was later….. You see kiddo, as a cadet I was pretty careful with everything. I mean, I was already pretty big, bigger than others, and also pretty strong, so I had to be careful what I did. Then this bounty hunter came and he was supposed to train us or something. Well, he was just a kriffing jerk about it and he made fun of us all the time. Hunter told us to stay calm and not let it get to us or something, but that guy was a nasty piece of work. He changed the training program so it was way more difficult than other cadets had to do. Hunter got hurt badly when he tried to shield me and I went mad after that. I mean, the guy was laughing about it! So, I lost control and wrecked the training room trying to get to that guy. The regs heard all about it and started to call me Wrecker as an insult. But Hunter told me to use it as a name because it shows how strong I am when I protect my family.” Beaming with pride he looks at Hunter. “I guess it was Hunter that really made it my name then.”

Hunter nods at Wrecker, a low chuckle escapes him when he thinks back at the times his brothers had gotten their names. Sure, they had pretty difficult, or better said, hard times as cadets, but at least they had each other and that was the only thing that truly mattered anyway. Knowing that he would have to tell the story of how he came to be Hunter he turns towards the young girl that has been listening to it all while snacking on some Mantel Mix.

“I guess I am the last one to tell you about my name.”

Omega already settled to listen to his recollection of the time he became Hunter, nods and grins.

“Well, I guess it is mostly because of my heightened senses that people expected me to be a good tracker, what they did not expect was that I would also become a true hunter.” For a moment he closes his eyes as his mind takes him back to the exact moment and he seems to hesitate.

“You know….. that squads consist of a minimum of four clones but most times there are more in a squad, right?” He looks down at Omega who just popped a piece of mix in her mouth. Chewing, she nods at him. “Yup, i know.”

“Our squad was supposed to have some more members…….” Realizing that the full truth would be revealed to Omega, the others shuffle in their places. Echo, though not an original member of the group, knows the story and understands it is not an easy memory to share.

Tech stops tinkering for a moment and looks at Hunter. A small nod at his sarge and he continues his work.

“Tsk.” It is the only sound that comes from Crosshair, who glares at Omega, for the audacity she has dragging it all up and for Hunter who allowed it.

Wrecker, the most gentle of them all, swallows as he suspiciously turns his head for a moment. When he turns back, his eyes seem to have been wiped dry and he smiles at both Hunter and Omega as approval.

“We have desirable mutations. Something that the Kaminoans would try to add to the newer generations of clones that were bred on Kamino. But changing the genetic makeup of a living being does not always work out well. Tech could explain it al in greater detail.” He holds up his hand to stop his brother, who already looked up, ready to go into greater details about genetic mutations and enhancements and how tinkering with it could have negative or even destructive effects on the subjects.

“Some did not survive outside of the pods used to accelerate age or the treatments to enhance our abilities. In the end our squad consisted of five survivors that could be trained.”

The mentioning of the squad consisting of five members has Omega perk up for a second. This was news to her, though she expected that Nala Se had not told her every single detail about all the members of her favorite squad of clones. Especially not when it became clear she was more interested in this small group than any of the other groups.

“Bug was the last one to die on Kamino, but not from the changes that were made to his genetic makeup. He died in an accident, or that is what the rapport stated. We knew that some of the regs wanted to teach him a lesson. Bug was always curious about other people and would bug them with questions on anything that caught his attention. It annoyed some of the others. They altered a training program and disabled the safety protocol, thinking it would only wound him. But bug, training his blaster skills at that time, was shot by one of the training droids, in the chest. He did not make it…….” Hunter stops there and looks at Omega. “You remind me of him.”

Omega, touched by the remark, softly smiles and nods at Hunter, indicating to him to continue his story.

“When we heard what happened to Bug, we did not believe it was an accident. Bug might have been absent minded at times, but he would never forget to turn on the safety protocols. Tech hacked the systems and found out what really happened. I guess that is the moment I started to earn my name. I hunted the regs responsible for what happened and we taught them a lesson. We didn't kill them, but they knew never to mess with any of us ever again.”

Omega, emotional from the story she was told just now, stands up and dashes over to Hunter. Throwing her arms around him she hugs him tightly. “I`m so sorry Hunter! I didn't want to make you all sad. I just thought it would be fun to hear how you all got your names.” With a sob she pushes her head into his chest, close to crying.

Hunter gently wraps his arms around her for comfort. “It`s ok Omega. Don`t worry about it.”

Wrecker, standing up, moves towards his little sister and pats her on the head. “Don`t worry kid! It was nice to think about Bug too ya know? He was fun to have around.”

Tech, finally done with tinkering with his latest project walks by as he mentions something about checking the auto pilot. A soft pat on her shoulder to tell her not to worry about it as well is all the comfort she needs from him at that time.

Crosshair, not a man to show many emotions, especially when it comes to Omega says nothing as he walks past them. The only surprising action is a quick, soft smile for her as he looks at the young girl still wrapped around Hunter.

Echo puts his hand on her shoulder as he turns her around. “Come on kid. Let's give Hunter a chance to breathe while we go and grab some food for dinner.”

With a final warm smile for Hunter, Omega nods and turns around to leave the hull and join Echo in preparing some food for their dinner. She asked for a story and had gotten more then she expected. Just a little more of the personalities of the men she came to see as her true family, the men she loved even before they met and that she wished to be with for the remainder of her life.

@loth-wolffe@nahoney22@hellothere-generalangsty@reluctant-mandalore@moonstrider9904@chaoticvampirejedi

#The Bad Batch #How did the Batch get their names?#Tech #Echo #Hunter #Wrecker #Crosshair #Omega #TBB #Fan Fic about TBB #What`s in a Name

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athenasbloodyspear · 3 years

Text

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed.

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee.

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them.

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out.

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends.

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge.

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12.

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie.

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove.

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked.

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.”

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed.

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter.

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug.

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back.

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited.

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee.

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up.

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically.

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter.

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy.

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.”

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store.

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it.

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists.

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter.

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts. There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.”

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up.

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs.

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed.

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.”

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.”

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door.

~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years.

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars.

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast.

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked.

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?”

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.”

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.”

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.”

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.”

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?”

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.”

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.”

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said.

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.”

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister.

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters.

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.”

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.”

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately.

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop.

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door.

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk.

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?”

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces.

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door.

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?”

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started.

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.”

“Wicked.” Maven calls back.

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley.

~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi.

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN.

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.”

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked.

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage.

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks.

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands.

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe.

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.”

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly.

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured.

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack.

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio.

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.”

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.”

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.”

“Sure.” Levi replied.

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote.

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked.

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.”

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?”

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded.

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.”

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.”

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly.

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio.

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back.

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.”

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.”

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.”

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?”

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased.

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled.

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”

~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect.

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today.

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states.

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago.

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?”

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her.

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again.

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off.

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad.

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something?

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open.

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder.

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly.

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain.

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point.

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake.

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak?

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way.

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side.

“Oh hey Maven-”

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door.

“Maven wait-”

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space.

“Sorry.” Jake muttered.

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed.

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?”

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.”

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere.

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter.

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped.

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake.

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.”

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.

~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player.

However, none of these things were easing her mind.

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake.

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this.

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray.

~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name.

“It’s Maven.” He said.

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked.

All four boys leaned in to read the screen.

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS.

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta fic #jake fic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta fan fleet fic #peaceful army

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mallowstep · 3 years

Text

(engine light)

Deadfoot reviews the file, then glances up at his companions. Ashfoot is a given, and Stonefall and Freckleleaf are from the local chapter. They came up after finding out about Tigerstar, and Nightpelt had welcomed the extra temporary members.

"Alright, we've got a family of five," he starts with. "Our kid is Featherpaw, she's 14. Her mom is Mistyfoot. As far as I know, Featherpaw just calls her Mistyfoot. They've got three newborns, Hawkkit, Mothkit, and Frogkit, and Featherpaw is real close to them."

He takes a breath. Deadfoot has done too many intake interviews, and there's never an easy way to jump into the preparation. At least this case should be a shoo-in for them.

"Y'all know about Tigerstar?"

All heads nod.

"So I don't have to explain he's still on the run. Featherpaw was one of his victims. Some real brutal stuff. Featherpaw was beaten and starved, as well as other forms of abuse. She's got some pretty nasty burns. She's blind in one eye, partially deaf, and she still needs help just getting around -- all Tigerstar. She's been in the hospital for the past three months, so we know we're missing some facts, because the police only have testimony from Mistyfoot, and Mistyfoot said as much herself."

He takes a deep breath. "I know we're there for Featherpaw, but Mistyfoot was abused by Tigerstar as well, so let's all be sensitive to that. Ashfoot, Freckleleaf, I want the two of you to lead the interview. Any questions?"

"What about the younger kids?"

"They were born after Mistyfoot and Featherpaw escaped. Like I said, she's pretty attached to them, and they're only a month old, so keep that in mind."

No one speaks, so Deadfoot nods. "Alright, let's roll."

* * *

Ashfoot knocks on the door. There's a sound of a sliding lock, and the door opens, held back by a chain. A woman with deep bags under her eyes stares at them.

"Are you Mistyfoot?"

She nods.

"I'm Ashfoot. I think you spoke with my husband, Deadfoot, over the phone?"

Mistyfoot glances across them, then shuts the door, sliding the chain back across. "Featherpaw? Everyone is here."

Featherpaw is sitting on the couch, holding one of the babies. She looks them over, examining them. After a moment, she nods once, and Mistyfoot offers her a hand. Featherpaw places the baby down in a playpen, then clutches Mistyfoot's hand.

"Where do you want to go?" Mistyfoot asks.

"Wherever you guys are comfortable. Couch, kitchen, doesn't matter."

Mistyfoot looks at the playpen, where three babies are sleeping calmly. "You okay with the kitchen table?"

Featherpaw nods, and Mistyfoot pulls out a chair for her. "We only have four chairs," she says. "Sorry."

"We don't mind," Deadfoot says. "Don't worry about us."

He leans against the half wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, and Stonefall stands next to him. Freckleleaf takes the seat across from Featherpaw, so Ashfoot ends up next to her.

"We're just going to ask some questions," Ashfoot says. "Either of you can answer, we just want to establish some information." It'd be nice for Featherpaw to answer -- without any statement from her, it's hard to know how she feels about this.

She faces Featherpaw, hoping it'll encourage a response. "Okay, briefly, can you just go over what happened?"

Featherpaw looks at her hands. "Don't you have a file or something?"

"We'd like to hear it from you."

She worries her lip, and Mistyfoot squeezes her hand.

"Tigerstar -- uh. Hurt me. And didn't feed me." She fumbles in her pocket, pulling out a length of ribbon. "That's pretty much it."

Freckleleaf scratches out a few sentences, then passes the notepad to Ashfoot as she asks the next question. "How've things been since you left his house?"

She shrugs. "I was in the hospital for a while."

"We just got out," Mistyfoot adds. "I think it's been hard -- they were real good about keeping us out of the public, y'know?"

"Are you worried about being seen?" Freckleleaf asks.

Mistyfoot glances at Featherpaw, waiting for her to answer.

"He hasn't been caught," Featherpaw says. "And he could figure out where we are."

"Are you worried about that?"

Featherpaw glances up at Mistyfoot, then cranes her neck to look at the babies. She nods.

Ashfoot keeps writing, passing back and forth with Freckleleaf, but this was practically a foregone conclusion. As long as Featherpaw feels safer with them -- she fits every criteria.

At the very end, Ashfoot smiles. "We'll reach out to you about what happens next," she says. "It was nice to meet you, Featherpaw."

Featherpaw smiles, then rubs her arm. Mistyfoot puts her arm around Featherpaw's shoulders. "Thank you for coming."

* * *

Barley hears the front door open and turns back.

"You're still here."

"We'll be here as long as you need us."

Feathertail slips outside, closing the door softly. She's got a blanket around her shoulders, so this isn't entirely unplanned. "It's late." She sits on the front steps, resting her chin on her hands.

"We'll take turns." Barley sits beside her. "Is everything alright?"

"I can't fall asleep." Feathertail pulls the blanket tighter. "I didn't want to wake anyone up." She yawns, and rests her head against his shoulder. "But you're up."

"You gonna fall asleep out here?"

"I don't think so. I'm not the right kind of tired for that." Barley catches Yellowfang looking back at them. He gives her a thumbs up with his other hand, and she nods. Feathertail stays silent for what has to be several minutes.

"Are you going to be here in the morning?"

"Yes."

"No -- are you going to be here in the morning?"

"Depends." Barley glances at his watch. "Yellowfang or I will be here, but I'm picking my husband up from the airport this morning."

"You're married?"

"If you're feeling up to it tomorrow, I'll introduce you." Barley pauses. "And you have to promise to like me more than him."

Feathertail snorts. "I dunno. Won't be hard."

She glances up at him, grinning, and he shakes his head a little.

Feathertail yawns again, and this time, her whole body moves with it, her shoulders rolling forward. "I'm going to go back to sleep," she says, pushing off Barley's shoulder.

Barley stands back up. "Alright. We'll be here."

She nods, then enters the house as quietly as she left it. Barley hears the door lock, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

might be late picking u up. want to b here when featherpaw wakes up.

#mine #human misty au #q #barley #deadfoot #ashfoot #feathertail #mistystar

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years

Text

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 20.

Chapter 20: Questions.

(Not my gif)

Summary: Aftermath of the car accident from the previous chapter. Bridgett worries about the baby. And questions arise.

TW: Mentions of a car accident. Blood. Death and dead body. Mentions of throwing up. Hospital. Arguing.

Word count: 2.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything slowly begins to settle back into focus as Bridgett’s eyes flutter open. At first she didn’t know where she was or what had happened, she just knew her body was sore. Bridgett shifts in her seat, rolling her head slowly to look around the car. Instantly her head begins pounding, the whole car still feeling like it was spinning but she knew they had stopped. She grunts as she unbuckles her seatbelt, feeling the belt slide across her sore body. She feels something wet under her nose as she pushes the hair out of her face, she brings her hand under her nostrils feeling the thick substance with her fingers and looking to see blood covering her three middle fingers.

“Are you alright?” Luke’s voice comes from the side of her. She sees the window was broken, Luke standing outside.

“My head.” She mutters.

“Okay, let’s get you out.” Luke opens the door, taking Bridgett’s hands and guiding her out of the car.

She grips onto his arms, feeling unsteady on her feet as she stands for the first time. “My head is pounding and I feel dizzy.”

“You probably have a concussion. It looks like you hit your head on the window, you have a nasty cut on the side of your head.”

“Luke?” JJ calls out from the car.

“Stay here.” He says, running over to assist JJ.

Bridgett turns to find the car, wanting to hold herself up against it, and when she turns, she sees Stephen’s body in the seat next to hers, his eyes were closed, and his face was covered in blood. Bridgett watched for any signs of breathing from his chest, but after staring at him for almost a minute, she saw nothing.

“Oh my god.” She whispers, covering her mouth with her hand as she begins to cry.

He has a wife. Two kids. How are we going to tell Monica?

From across the car she sees Penelope and Matt rushing over to JJ and Luke, checking in on JJ who was saying she couldn’t see.

“Stephen?” Penelope's voice calls out.

Bridgett looks up at her friend, tears still in her eyes as she makes her way over to them.

“Stephen?” She repeats, looking at him through the window.

Bridgett takes Penelope’s hand, holding it in hers as they look at their team member. “He’s gone.” Bridgett sobs.

Both of the women remain quiet as they stay put, not wanting to leave him by himself.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even ask, are you okay?” Penelope asks.

Bridgett turns her head a little too quickly, her vision going blurry. She grips onto Penelope’s hand, feeling a wave of nausea and disorientation come over her.

“What’s wrong?” Penelope asks.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Bridgett says, closing her eyes and breathing in deep.

“Okay, the medics just got here. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Bridgett squats down, breathing in deeply, trying to keep herself from throwing up.

“Bridge, the baby. Is the baby okay? Do you feel okay?” Penelope asks.

The baby…

Bridgett hadn’t even thought about the baby.

Bridgett looks up and Penelope, worry written on her face. “I don’t know.”

“Okay don’t panic, let me get a medic over here.” Penelope says, running off.

“Where’s Emily? Has anyone seen her?” Rossi calls out, limping around the road.

Bridgett looks around at everyone who had vacated the cars, maybe they had simply overlooked her, but everyone else was accounted for. She tries to stand back up, but she falls into the car, still feeling dizzy.

“Woah, sit back down for a minute. We need to check you out.” The medic says, helping Bridgett back onto the ground.

“Do you know where Emily is? She was in the other car.” Bridgett asks the woman.

“The police are trying to find her. I need you to focus on me and what I’m doing, okay?”

***

A nurse wheels the gurney Bridgett is laying in through the ER, right behind Rossi.

“Can you do me a favor?” Bridgett asks the nurse behind her. “The man over there in the tie, he’s my boyfriend, can you keep him out of the room? I’m pregnant and he doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to know yet.”

“Yes ma’am.” The nurse replies.

Spencer spots Bridgett right away, rushing over to her. “Are you okay?” He asks, holding her hand.

“I’m fine.”

He begins to follow them into the room, but the nurse stops him at the door.

“I’m sorry, but we have to run some tests on her, we can’t have you in the room just yet.”

“But she’s- I’m her boyfriend. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“I understand, but we need to run tests on her. We will let you see her when we’re done.”

“Spence, I’m fine. Go check on the rest of the team.” Bridgett says, running her thumb over his knuckles.

“I’ll come back to check on you.” He says, leaning down to kiss the uninjured part of her head. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Bridgett replies as he walks out of the room.

“What we’re going to do is get an ultrasound done and check on the baby, okay? Make sure there’s no damage to the uterus or placenta. We’re more than likely going to keep you until tomorrow evening to make sure baby and you are okay.”

Bridgett nods her head, getting comfortable on the bed.

***

Hours had passed by, all Bridgett wanted to do was go to bed, but with her concussion, she couldn’t. Thankfully all the tests and ultrasound had come back with a good outcome, the baby was okay and everything was normal. She got blips of information from Penelope about what was going with finding Emily, and that Spencer was having a rough time mentally.

“Just checking in on you, sweetheart.” Her nurse walks in, checking the machines behind her.

“I’m just tired.” Bridgett responds.

“I know, we’ll get you up and walking around here in a bit. Your friends have been asking about you, are they okay to come see you?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just wanted to make sure the baby was okay before anyone came in.”

“Can I ask a personal question, why are you keeping it a secret?”

“Well, I’m an FBI agent, I can’t work in the field if I’m pregnant and I’m not 100% ready to give that up yet, but after tonight I think I am.”

“And you’re keeping it from your boyfriend? He’s a cutie by the way.”

Bridgett laughs, “Thank you. And I just want to find the right time to tell him that’s all. He was… away, for a while, and he came back tonight so I haven’t told him.”

“Well, I don’t know you two, but i can tell you two love each other very much.”

“We do. We’ve been in love for over 10 years.”

“Young love. Reminds me and my late husband.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s been about 6 years now. He was overseas serving our country, and he passed away a hero. We were together since we were 18, we had 26 wonderful years, 6 beautiful kids. He used to look at me just like your boyfriend looks at you. If he’s anything like my Michael was, he’s going to be thrilled when you tell him you’re pregnant.”

“I think so too. He doesn’t have to wait much longer.”

There’s a knock at the open door, JJ standing in the doorway.

“Hey, are you allowed visitors?”

“Yeah, come in.” Bridgett says.

“I’ll come back in 30 to check on you.” The nurse says, walking out of the room.

JJ walks in, sitting at the end of Bridgett’s bed. “How are you?”

“My head is throbbing, my body hurts, and I feel like I’m going to be picking glass out of my hair for the next 6 months. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Just going crazy not knowing what’s going on. I’m worried about Emily. Monica’s here. She uh…” JJ clears her throat. “She said her goodbyes to Stephen.”

Bridgett groans softly, shaking her head. “How bad did she take it?”

“Like you’d expect. Monica’s strong but having to say goodbye to your husband so unexpectedly… I can’t imagine.”

“God me either.”

“Guess you and Spence didn’t have the homecoming you wanted.”

“No, but I’m just glad he’s home. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t be. And being there for me too.”

JJ smiles and holds Bridgett’s hand. “Of course. You guys are my family and that’s what family does.”JJ’s phone rings from her hand, she puts it on speaker. “Hey Luke.”

“Hey. How are you guys holding up?”

“Okay. Any word on Emily?” Bridgett asks.

“Yeah, we got her. She’s okay, a little banged up but we’re on our way to the hospital to get her all patched up.”

Both women breathe out a sigh of relief at the update.

“What about Scratch?” Bridgett asks.

“He’s dead. We won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Luke responds.

For the second time that night, relief envelops Bridgett’s body and mind. It was truly one last thing that she had to worry about ever again.

***

A few days had passed since the night from hell happened. Spencer didn’t want to go back to his apartment, so he had been staying with Bridgett at her place. He had been taking care of her since she was still sore and tending to the cuts on the side of her head. Neither of them had talked much about the events leading up to Spencer’s arrest, but it wasn’t the time. They had just gotten back from Stephen’s funeral, which was emotionally draining to say the least.

Bridgett dresses herself after drying her body off, stepping out of a much needed shower, she grabs a pair of athletic shorts and throws a plain blue big shirt over her body, letting her hair air dry. She walks out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, seeing Spencer fast asleep on the bed. She quietly picks up the clothes off the floor she had thrown about when they got home, throwing them in the hamper in the corner of the room.

“Are you going to come lay down with me?” Spencer mutters, his eyes still closed.

Bridgett smiles, walking back and climbing into bed, snuggling up behind Spencer, wrapping her arm around his waist.

He gladly let her hold him for a change, enjoying the feeling of her touch.

“Can I ask you a question?” Bridgett peeps from behind him.

Spencer turns around, opening his eyes to look straight at hers. Bridgett smiles at him sweetly, touching his cheek lightly with her fingers.

“Before you ask your question, I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you too, baby boy.” She responds, kissing the tip of his nose. “So, my question, and I promise I’m not mad about it, I’m just curious, why did you lie about Mexico?”

The question takes him off guard, even if he wanted to lie, he couldn’t. Especially looking into the eyes he was so in love with.

“I shouldn’t have, I know.”

“By why did you?”

Spencer sighs, making a flat expression. “I… I just wanted to help my mom. The medicine I was giving her isn't cleared here but all the research I did I wanted to give it a try.” He clears his throat, trying to prevent himself from falling apart.

“You could have told me what you were doing Spence. I’m your girlfriend and that’s what I’m here for. For you to confide in.”

“For you to talk me out of it?”

“I wouldn’t ha-.”

“You’re telling me you would have been okay with me going to Mexico every few weeks to get illegal medicine for my mom? Putting my life at risk, my job, all of that?” Spencer begins to raise his voice at her.

“Don’t start yelling at me.” Bridgett spits, sitting up in bed and scooting away from him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. This just isn’t the conversation I wanted to have right now.”

“Well when do you want to schedule a time to have this conversation, Spencer? I wasn’t mad, but now, I am.”

“Mad at what? The fact that I lied to you and you didn’t realize?”

Bridgett shoots him a dirty look, getting off her bed quickly. Not bothering to respond to him.

“And now you’re walking away?”

“Yes I’m walking away!” Bridgett yells, whipping her head around. “I’m sorry that I fucking care about you and was scared shitless when I got that call from that drunk, that you were in jail. I’m sorry that I was fucking concerned for your fucking well-being. And I’m fucking sorry that I want to know why you felt the need to fucking lie to me and the rest of the team.” She yelled. “This was the worst 3 months of my life. Worrying about if I was ever going to see you again outside of prison. I was terrified when I found out you stabbed yourself, I thought you were losing your goddamn mind! And it wasn’t like I could go see you, because you refused to see me!”

“Because Luke said you were always a mess after coming to see me. Why would I continue to put you through that?” Spencer yells back.

“Because even though I was a mess after seeing you, what pulled me through was the thought of seeing your face again. You kept me sane! Pulled me out of the slump I was in. You know how heartbroken I was when I got sent away and told I wasn’t authorized to see you? Only to find out you were the one who took me off this list. What if we didn’t get lucky, and you stayed in prison until you went to trial? The thought of not being able to see you all those months, killed me.” Her voice breaks at the end, losing her composure. Wiping her eyes with the collar of her shirt. “Fuck I’m so sick of crying.” She mutters loud enough for Spencer to hear.

Spencer gets off the bed, walking up to her and pulling her against him. He rubbed the back of her head as she cried into his chest. He felt like an ass for yelling at her and getting angry at her for asking a question. “I’m sorry. For everything. Lying, keeping you away, yelling at you. All of it. I’m sorry.” His own voice breaking.

Bridgett looks up at Spencer, grabbing his face. “Look at me, do not lie to me ever again. I don’t care if it’s illegal, if you think I’m going to talk you out of it. Do not do this to me again. Promise me.”

Spencer nods his head softly. “I promise.” Kissing her forehead, holding his lips against her. He snakes his arm underneath the back of her shirt, his cold limb making goosebumps scatter through Bridgett’s body.

“I love you.” Bridgett says against his chest, clinging onto the shoulder of his shirt. She picks her head up and stretches up to kiss him.

Spencer firmly kisses her back, making her press up against him.

They hadn’t had sex since Spencer had been back. Once Bridgett had gotten out of the hospital the other night, both of them slept like the dead, almost a whole 18 hours. Then Spencer was helping his mom move her belongings to a new care facility. All the emotional and physical obstacles they’ve both been dealing with. It was finally time to give him his proper homecoming.

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid series #spencer reid x oc character #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler fan fiction #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler fan fic #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #part of you fic

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snowwhitelass · 3 years

Text

Just received this in DM today from a very nice person, who I will not share her real name with on this post out of anonymity, but I will just call her “Dahlia.” She wanted me to see what nasty Cait stan, Castlemaine123, said about Sam and how she always puts Sam down on everything. I have known this about Castlemaine for a long time. Dahlia calls Castlemaine a “troll” and I agree! If the real Caitriona Balfe and friend to Sam knew some of the things that castlemaine has said about Sam then I believe she would be appalled by it. That includes most of CRT’s mean girls’ group as well. None of them hesitate to lie, make up conspiracy theories, or spread false claims about Sam and those close to him.

Ok, first of all, I entered this fandom because I love everything about Outlander and still do. I love all of DG’s Outlander books. I love Sam and Cait equally, and so do others I follow here on tumblr. We also love the rest of the cast members of Outlander, and respect them. That means not trashing their character and questioning their integrity.

Referring to all Sam fans as “Horney Grannies” is false. I am not a wife, a mother, or a grandmother because I’ve never been married and I don’t have any children. I am a couple years older than Sam. Most Sam fans range in all ages from 19 years old and up. Although, I do know there are some very young fans of Sam, as in kids, who adore Sam. The same with Cait.

How I and others spend our money by supporting Sam is our business and should not be mocked. By the way, Cait is supported too by me and others. Sam’s whisky 💛🥇🥃 is gold and an award winner!!! No one can take that away from Sam, not even trash talk by castlemaine or her mean group buddies.

Castlemaine123 is lying when she says Sam isn’t living an authentic life. She is delusional. Sam’s relationships with women and prior girlfriends have been real because he is a heterosexual man, “duh!” I actually blame her and others she associates with for causing the targeted harassment and bullying he has received. Including, those close to him and family members.

I also know Castlemaine123 has trashed p-redux and her sources because I have seen prior comments stating as such on other posts. Well, Castlemaine isn’t even half the decent woman that Purv is, so castlemaine will always be irrelevant when it comes to the truth in this fandom.

I could go on with a much longer list of her bullshit lies and grievances about Sam but frankly I am worn out. All I can add is that Castlemaine123 is a spiteful, unscrupulous person who should not be trusted. Someone that needs therapy for her hatred and distain towards Sam. She doesn’t represent Cait well as a fan but I also know she is a minority and there are other Cait fans who don’t speak or wish ill of Sam. I appreciate that Dahlia showed me how awful these comments about Sam are and that’s why I decided to post them so others could see the cruelty in them!

#sam heughan #outlander fandumb #samcait #outlander fandom #mean girls #harrassment #bullying #sam haters

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c-rose2081 · 3 years

Text

A Letter from Grace

—

My life, as most people’s do, began at an ungodly hour on October 31st, 1918. Father admitted once that it was the longest witching hour of his life, and that he hadn’t slept at all the days prior due to worry over the birth. I was born three months earlier then expected, and mother liked to say that I was the smallest, most fragile little baby she’d ever laid eyes on. Just the size of a decent eggplant from the market; perfectly suited to sit in the palm of your hand.

Tension was high that night, as Influenza had already taken many infants in the local Hospital. So I was born in the dark privacy of my Grandfathers New York Estate, passed down for three generations already. Father was excited to have a fourth Generation to which he could pass his legacy, or so I was told. Swaddled expertly by a matron of almost sixty years who Mother claimed to trust with her life, for a single moment everything was perfect; just my parents and their little baby girl who they named Grace.

But my weakness would not be chased away so easily.

Though I don’t remember much of the early years, I recall father once telling me that I had broken two fingers, and cracked my head open before I could even walk. Doctors who came to the house claimed my bones simply weren’t strong enough yet; that I needed more calcium which my mothers milk couldn’t seem to provide. But by the time I was on my own two feet, tottering about the manor as most young children do, bruises, breaks, and scratches had the staff and my poor parents on edge. It was around this time as well my own heart decided to betray me. It wasn’t normal for such a young child to be fatigued as quickly as I was, nor was it normal for her breathing to sound like the hard start of an automobile.

Up until the age of six, when I begin to remember some (if only a little) of my childhood, no one - no local physician nor expert - could figure out what was wrong with me. Everything, yet nothing, was the matter. Mother - who was a journalist for National Geographic - traveled and was away for long periods during this time. And though I can recall day dreaming of the many fantastic and wondrous locales she must’ve seen, it left my worrying father to…well, worry about me. It seemed falling down the stairs face first at my local day school and not only cracking my head open again, but also breaking two ribs and promptly becoming unconscious, was enough to send him reeling over the edge of hysteria for my well-being.

During my long and tedious recovery from that single incident, I caught a devilish sickness. No one knows where it had come from; another student in my school perhaps, or from a simple passing stranger. But Father claimed he had paid a fortune in phone calls to Africa in order to speak with mother who was (at the time) photographing Elephants. She came straight home of course, only to find her little girl pale and as close to death as one could be.

It’s all a bit hazy, as my brain was still young; feverish and half-delusional. But I can remember the lingering smell of tobacco on fathers hands and ground into his silk lapels as he cradled me, rubbing my back as I coughed and struggled to catch a breath. And I can still hear mother’s voice as she sat by the bedside, telling me of the many animals she had seen while in Africa. I dreamed of lions and elephants in those hours, blearily staring at nothing as lamplight flickered across damp windowpanes from an evening rainfall. I recovered slowly but surely, but that first flu had taken something out of me. Something I wasn’t ever able to get back, even as I grew older.

I was just about to turn seven, finally healthy again, when I was no longer permitted to leave the grounds. Mother and Father had a very long, loud conversation about it in the library, to which I listened in through the mahogany door. There was to be no more school; just private tutors who I would soon come to spite. No more Summer games in the park, or long nights under strings of electric lights at the carnival. No possibility of family trips, or late night escapades to the Ice Cream parlor for frozen cherries and whipped cream. There was to be no world for me beyond the fence of the Estate.

To keep me safe, Father claimed.

It was only a day after that the wheelchair made its first appearance in my life. Father insisted it would help with my heart; protect it from beating to fast from running, or walking about to quickly. Mother disagreed with the notion, I could see it on her face as I was settled into the wicker seat for the first time, but she said nothing. I hated it instantly. I wanted to run and play, and roll about in the grass like the kids at my school could. I used to envy their ability to get high, high up into the branches above the schoolyard, perched at the top with the world at their feet. I never dared try for myself, lest Father decide to cut all the trees down if he ever saw me in one.

It wasn’t bad at first; Mother stayed with me those beginning months, occupying my mind with stories of her travels and long games of chess. She began me in piano lessons, and helped with my cursive. But it wasn’t long before she once again had to leave; India this time, to photograph wild tigers. The day she left it felt like some huge part of me went with her. Father tried his best of course, and I remember riding on his shoulders or in his arms with fondness. But he was a busy man, often called away to the city for one thing or another.

The staff of course did their best, but babysitting a squirmy young girl certainly wasn’t in their daily agenda. My nursemaid - the same woman who birthed me (nasty old crone) - was a harsh matron who allowed for little beyond what was deemed safe and allowable by my Father. It was always lessons in the morning; the usual subjects of maths, geography, history, natural sciences and the like. This clockwork schedule was followed by etiquette and tea time, piano lessons, art, literature and penmanship.

I did get some exercise, but I was always well watched by Matron and at least two other members of staff. Some days it was a casual swim, no longer then half an hour, and on Saturday it was a light waltzing lesson (privately taught of course). And - on the rare occasion I could bully the other staff into it - a game of croquet or darts on the lawn. But there was little time for fun, despite my Fathers pleasure at my supposed ‘safety’, and I each day I felt some small part of me die.

I was 13 when the next incident occurred. Some local boys who I’d never seen before wandered close to our garden fence. Matron had left me to my afternoon reading as to fetch coffee (which I had come to prefer over tea). Mother - according to her letters - was someplace in China, hunting down Rhinoceros. Father had left earlier that morning to meet with investors at his office in the city. It was a rare moment I was truly alone. The boy, who’s name I can’t recall now, smiled at me. It was a cute, boyish grin and I can still remember how startled I was by it. After all I hadn’t seen anyone in what felt like years (at least six, to be exact). He urged me close to the fence.

At that point I was desperate to be out of my wheelchair, so I walked to him. He nodded to the lovely apple tree which I had been sitting under, and asked if I could climb it to fetch him one of the fruit. Of course I said no, as climbing was strictly prohibited, but he was quite a smooth talker for a boy so young. He called me pretty, and dove, and all the sweet things one calls a girl to make her waver in her convictions. And so - stupidly, might I say - I climbed the tree against my better judgement.

Three shiny red apples were tossed easily over the fence, one for each boy. They gave me a wave goodbye and ran off to do whatever they pleased. And then there was me, a fragile, tiny girl stuck up in a tree with no way down. Of course I didn’t mind at first, I was actually elated I had made the climb at all. I finally was able to see what my schoolmates had all those years ago. I could view the entire estate and beyond; I could stare at the horizon; seemingly endless in its reach. But as much as I yearned to stay above and away from my tiny world forever, Matron would soon return.

Getting out of the tree was much more complicated then climbing into it.

I remember the horrible feeling of miscalculation; falling and hitting the soft earth with a terrible grunt. Something inside me cracked, and my lungs exploded with fire as I wheezed out a cry of pain. I don’t remember now who had seen me first; one of the yard staff perhaps, but Matron was furious. Once again I was bedridden, pretending to sleep as Father puffed on his favorite ivory pipe just outside my bedroom door. He mentioned to Matron the idea of adding straps to the wheelchair, as to keep me from falling. I remember whimpering under the blankets at the thought of being tied to the thing, and sobbing myself to sleep that night.

The years came and went, and I felt more and more heavy with each passing hour. I didn’t leave the wheelchair again until I was 16, and simply couldn’t stand the bloody thing anymore. I would sit in chairs, or on window sills. I’d spend time in the woven hammock in the garden, or lounge across the evening sofas. Any place I could sit, I would, simply to avoid being stuck in the contraption I loathed. I got sick more often during these middle years; on again off again fevers and dizzy spells that left me dazed and began the chain of worrying my father and caretakers all over again.

There were endless nights alone where I’d stare at my naked form in the mirror in golden lamplight, using a finger to count the ribs poking from under my paper-like skin. It’s true my body was changing into that of a woman, but it hardly mattered when the lightest of touches could leave a mark on me the size of a continent.

Mother was traveling again, to and from as she always seemed to do. Letters and phone calls were exchanged often, and I often studied the places she traveled when she was away in my geography lessons. But it often felt like it was just Father and I against the world. He was dear of course, moving his work to the home office as illness became more common. He’d bring me gifts from the city; strings of diamonds and beautiful mink furs. A brand new motorcar, just for my use (not like I could ever go anywhere). But there really wasn’t much that could bring a smile to my face.

Burning the wheelchair and the Matron in a fire the size of Connecticut might have done it. But I didn’t have the heart to ask.

Father even hosted a large ball for my Birthday that year, with dancing and music and people. But even that couldn’t seem to bring my heart from its dark and lonely place. Only when Father allowed the wheelchair to be folded up and hidden away in the closet after almost ten years did I finally feel whole again. I was more careful after that; I did little to aggravate my condition. The fevers and fainting spells were still present, but the bruises and breaks healed. I took a fondness for the writings of Edgar Allen Poe, and Lewis Carroll’s Alice. I read the articles in National Geographic which Mother had sent in her letters over the years, and sketched the animals which she herself had photographed. For a while, everything finally seemed ok.

Until Mother returned home from her second trip to Africa deeply ill.

For the first time in my life, I finally felt what father must have for me every time I lay bedridden. I was only allowed to see her from the doorway, out of fear of me catching the disease as well. I wasn’t allowed to speak with anyone who entered or left the room, and Father had to bathe and keep his distance whenever he came to see me. I was 18 when she finally died in the night. This year. Though it feels like just yesterday.

Yellow Fever they said, from a mosquito bite in Africa.

Nothing - not the breaks, bruises, fevers or constant illness - prepared me to see my own mother dead. I wasn’t even allowed to see her; to say goodbye. I could only watch, held back by three of the staff, as she was carried out under a sheet. The Doctor had to sedate me for my own health after I managed to break loose and nearly fell down the stairs after her corpse. I woke up numb, and couldn’t convince myself to move for days after that. I knew I should’ve been grieving with father, but I couldn’t manage it. There was so much pain. The wheelchair came out of the closet again, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.

The funeral was attended, and the casket buried. Father and I didn’t speak much in those long weeks after; in fact I wondered if I even could. It felt like I hadn’t spoken in years. There was just a horrible, overwhelming chill in me, and I grew weaker with grief. After a few months, Father became worried for me, as did the house staff. They opened the windows, and trimmed the gardens. The rooms were dusted, and filled with light. I was taken outside the fence for the first time since I was a girl, in the automobile which I hadn’t ever used. But there was still only emptiness.

After four months, Father left the house to attend a meeting in the city. He returned with a man whom I didn’t recognize; a fancy man who bowed and kissed my hand and smiled from under his white mustache. He said his specialty was in dealing with those lost in grieving, and that perhaps it would be best if we (my father and I) left New York and all it’s memories behind. Naturally I was appalled at the idea, but couldn’t seem to match my face to my feelings.

Before I knew it the house was emptied out, packed into boxes and taken away by trucks and wagons. Anything not moved was sold at auction, and the house was passed on to the highest bidder.

“New Orleans, my little Bluebird,” Father told me as we settled in for the long journey by car across the country, leaving New York behind, “truly a city of culture. I’ve bought us a beautiful new home just outside town; you’ll love how big it is.”

And big it was. The old Hatchaway Estate was an ivory mansion in a traditional New England style. Surrounded by the most beautiful trees and well kept fields, it was a far cry from the fenced in world back home. The staff, pre-hired, were a gloomy looking bunch dressed in green and black stripes. But father liked their quiet (somewhat somber) fortitude, and so I said nothing as they helped us settle in. There was something…unusual about the new house. I could feel it the minute I walked through the door. A heaviness; like someone was watching me. It was just enough unease for me to forget my quiet grief for a moment.

I learned quickly that the house itself was seemingly unnerved. The first week I had seen at least two items move on their own, and heard giddy singing from the back garden only to find no one there. The staff was practically ghostly, saying very little to us, let alone one another. And I spent a lot of time exploring the grounds on my own. It was a few weeks after moving in, about a month before my 19th Birthday, that father hired two new drivers; a Mr. Harrod Fairchild, and Mr. Rudolph Martin to tend to the cars.

And this, my friends, is where I find myself now. Writing this overview of where I’ve been so far, and now disclosing with utmost discretion my newfound interest in the man father has hired in my name. Mr. Martin is…how to describe him is a puzzle. Handsome? Certainly. Charming? Quite so. I find myself endeared to his presence despite myself, and I grow weary of this…this little tickle of something other then emptiness that has suddenly flared up inside me. Have I once again caught ill? How to explain to father (or anyone really) this fever in me whenever he’s nearby. I’ve barely spoken to him, but have watched him tend to the car and grounds from the windows. I know he’s gentle, but still quite strong. I can sometimes hear him singing down there, leaning against the porch as he plays the banjo for the staff keeping the porch.

Every time I do get close, or think about approaching him myself, I feel that fever begin to rise and I wonder if something is truly very wrong with me. It feels like I’m dying, and I can hardly stand it. I’m bewitched. Perhaps it’s this terrible heat? What’s wrong with me?

I wish mother were here, she’d know what to do.

Eternally yours, dear reader

Grace

#original character #oc #fanfiction #character literature #character development #haunted mansion #haunted mansion oc #disney

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beifongsss · 4 years

Text

playing with fire pt. 3 [sokka]

Pairing: Sokka x reader

Summary: You’re a Fire Nation citizen who saves Sokka and Katara from some angry villagers. Aang “convinces” you to come along with them, finding your knowledge of the nation useful. Not everything is smooth sailing though as both Water Tribe siblings have their doubts about you.

this will be a series :D this is during return to omashu!!

w.c.~3.0k

prologue. one. two.

.masterlist.

this was a really dull chapter i’m sorry,,, it was more just to introduce Azula.

Uneasiness was all you felt as Aang tried to open the sewage tunnel that led into Omashu.

After leaving the Cave of Two Lovers, you had immediately trekked to Omashu, only to be stopped when you discovered it had been taken over by the Fire Nation. Katara had tried to convince Aang to leave and get away from the city, not wanting any of them to be captured. Aang had refused, stating that this was no longer about finding an earthbending teacher but about finding his friend.

That’s how you found yourself walking through a sewage tunnel, staying as close as possible to Aang so that you wouldn’t get the sludge all over you. Behind you, Katara was gracefully waterbending the sludge away from her, leaving Sokka to fend for himself. The four of you emerged in the middle of an empty street. It was too quiet, and you found yourself glancing around as your uneasiness increased.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” Katara said. You all turned to face Sokka, who was wearing a tired expression. Looking around, Katara spotted a barrel of water and bent it at Sokka, washing off all the sludge. Aang then proceeded to dry Sokka off with his airbending, revealing the pentapi that had attached themselves to Sokka’s face.

“Ahh! They won’t come off!” Sokka yelped loudly, trying to pull the little creatures off. Your eyes widened with fear and you ran up to him, covering his mouth with your hands.

“Be quiet!” you hissed.

“Yeah, stop making so much noise,” Aang said, agreeing with you. “Besides, it’s just a purple pentapus.”

Aang proceeded to tickle the pentapus’s head, causing the animal to separate itself from Sokka’s face. Sokka rubbed at the spot where the pentapus had been attached, smiling dazedly at you as you proceeded to remove the rest of the animals.

“Thank (Y/N),” he whispered as he stood up. The closeness between the two of you made you blush, causing Sokka to smirk lightly as he realized he had been the cause.

“Hey! What are you kids doing out past curfew?”

You all whirled around to face a group of Fire Nation guards approaching. Carefully, you hid yourself behind Sokka, making sure that the guards wouldn’t be able to see your face.

“Sorry. We were just on our way home,” Katara said sweetly, shooting the guards an innocent smile. You all turned around to walk away, Sokka making sure that you were in front of him so he was bringing up the rear.

“Wait!” one of the guards called out, causing you all to turn around. He pointed at Sokka. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Uh, he has pentapox, sir,” Katara said, a panicked look on her face. “Um, it’s highly contagious.”

“Oh, it’s so awful” Sokka groaned, collapsing against you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I’m dying!”

“And deadly,” Katara added, a grimace on her face.

“Hey, I think I heard of pentapox!” the other guard whispered. “Didn't your cousin Chang die of it?”

“We'd better go wash our hands, and burn our clothes,” the first guard replied. The two of them glanced at your group before running away.

“Thank you, sewer friends,” Aang said brightly, causing Sokka to scowl at him. The four of you walked off into the city, being careful to stay quiet. Sokka’s arm stayed around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as you wandered around.

“Let’s find Bumi and get out of here,” Katara stated, looking around uncomfortably as you all walked along a construction site.

“Where would they be keeping him?” Sokka asked.

“Somewhere he can't earthbend,” Aang replied quietly. “Somewhere made of metal.”

The four of you stood in place for a moment, looking out at the city. You felt overwhelmed for a moment, the task of finding King Bumi seemed a lot more daunting now that you had a full view of the city. Aang began to walk again, lost in his thoughts. You heard a faint rumbling and looked up, seeing huge balls of earth plummeting down towards the family walking down below.

“Aang, look!” you yelped, drawing the Air Nomad’s attention towards the chunks of earth. With a swipe of his staff, the rocks broke apart, the debris falling down to the street below.

“The resistance!” the older woman cried out, pointing at the four of you fearfully. A series of sharp arrow-like knives were flung your way, causing Sokka to yelp as he ducked and began to pull you away.

Your hand slipped out of his as you ran to pick up one of the little knives. Katara used her water to get rid of the guards but she was unable to knock the girl down before she reached them. You began to run, making sure that everyone was safely in front of you. Katara put up an ice wall but the girl jumped over it and landed gracefully, only to be blown back by a strong gust of air from Aang. The girl regained her balance and aimed a throwing star at Aang, letting it go without hesitation. You drew your sword and threw yourself in front of Aang, blocking the throwing star with your blade. You made eye contact with the girl, your eyes widening slightly when you recognized her. It was Mai.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, looking from you to Aang. Her eyes widened briefly before she composed herself, aiming three more arrows at the two of you. You readied yourself to deflect those as well, backing away slowly with Aang as you waited for her to strike. She let the knives fly a second later ,the ground falling out from under you just as they reached you. You gasped when you felt one of the knives graze your arm, the sudden darkness making it impossible for you to assess the damage.

The four of you found yourselves in a large tunnel, a large group of people standing around.

“So, is King Bumi with you guys? Is he leading the resistance?” Aang asked, starting a conversation with Yung, one of the men who had saved you. Sokka pulled you aside as he noticed the blood on your arm, grabbing Katara as well. Noticing the blood, Katara’s eyes widened and she immediately opened her water skin. She eyed you warily as she began to heal the cut.

“So, that girl seemed to recognize you,” Katara hummed, ignoring Sokka’s glare. “How?”

“That was Mai,” you replied quietly, shaking your head at Sokka. Katara was right to be wary. “She’s the daughter of a Fire Nation nobleman. We both attended the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. We used to be friends, before I ran. She’s the best knife thrower I know; she’s dangerously accurate with her knives. Trust me, she missed me on purpose.”

Katara stared at you for a moment, seeing nothing but the truth in your eyes. Slowly, she nodded, putting her water away before straightening. “It’s all healed. Be a little more careful next time, okay?”

You followed her lead, straightening up and facing Aang just in time to catch the tail end of his speech

“...you can’t win. Now’s the time to retreat, so you can live to see another day,” he said confidently, looking out at all the rebels. The men who had saved you looked at Aang in surprise before looking at each other uneasily.

“You don't understand. They've taken our home, and we have to fight them at any cost!” Yung said, waving his hands around to enunciate.

“I don’t know Yung,” another man replied quietly. “Living to fight another day is starting to sound pretty good to me.”

“Yeah!” another resistance member cried out, stepping forward. “I’m with the kid!”

Yung looked around the room, taking in the tired faces of the resistance members. Sighing, he turned back to Aang. “Fine. But there's thousands of citizens that need to leave. How're we going to get them all out?”

It went silent for a moment before Sokka stepped forwards, a wide smile on his face as he spoke. “Suckers!”

The room went silent as everyone stared at Sokka. Katara arched an eyebrow as she stared at her brother, wondering what was going on in his brain.

“You’re all about to come down with a nasty case of pentapox,” Sokka added, a smirk spreading across his face.

A purple pentapus sat in your hand as you stared at it uncertainly. It stared back at you, occasionally blinking. Sighing, you placed it upon your skin before picking up a few more, letting them suction themselves to your face and arms. You sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for the red marks to form before you attempted to remove the little animals.

“Need some help?” Sokka asked softly, coming to a stop next to you. You glanced up at him, seeing a small smile spread across his face as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Please,” you muttered in reply, looking at the pentapi uncomfortably.

“Not a fan of animals?” Sokka asked, picking up one of your arms and removing the little purple creatures.

“Not when I can feel their suckers moving on my skin,” you said, shuddering slightly. Whether it was from the pentapi or from Sokka’s gentle touch, you weren’t sure. He chuckled at your words, finishing up with your arm and moving onto the other one. A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you as he finished with your other arm, his hand coming to cup your face as he began to remove the pentapi you had put there. You avoided his gaze, knowing that looking into his bright blue eyes would just make you more flustered than you already were. The close proximity between the two of you made your head spin, your thoughts racing as you remembered what had happened in the Cave of Two Lovers.

“There, all done,” Sokka said, tossing the last pentapus back in the water. His hand didn’t leave your face and you felt him tilt your chin up so you were making eye contact with him. You breath hitched as you stared into his eyes and you resisted the urge to blush as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“(Y/N),” he murmured, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes. “About what happened back in the cavern…”

He trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing. “If the badgermoles hadn’t burst in, would you have let me continue?”

“Yes,” you whispered almost instantly. Much like Sokka had done back in the cavern, you thought back on all the time you had spent together. Sokka was always sweet and respectful, listening to you talk about your feelings and either wrapping you up in a hug or telling you exactly what you needed to hear afterwards. The more you thought about him, the faster your heart raced. You knew all about his insecurities and his habits, especially after all the time you spent absentmindedly studying him as you lounged around the current campsite together. You knew that if the badgermoles hadn’t interrupted your moment, you would’ve kissed him back eagerly.

Sokka’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before a self-satisfied smirk spread across his face. You rolled your eyes at his expression, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as well. He brought his other hand to yours, intertwining your fingers as he leaned in slightly. “So, if I were to do it again right now, would you stop me?”

You shook your head softly, your breath hitching in your throat as Sokka tugged on your hand to bring you in closer. You moved forward willingly, placing your free hand on Sokka’s chest to steady yourself as he leaned in.

“Are you guys ready?”

The two of you sprung apart before turning to face Aang, who was looking at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Aang said quietly, looking at your still intertwined hands before looking away and trying to fight a smirk. “Just wanted to let you guys know that we’re ready to proceed with the plan!”

“Great! Let’s go,” you said, avoiding Aang’s knowing look as you began to walk towards the others. Sokka walked up to Aang once you were gone, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the Air Nomad. Aang simply gave him a cheeky grin and shrugged.

“There’s always a next time!” Aang chirped before sprinting away, ignoring Sokka as he yelled at him to come back.

Sokka’s plan had worked perfectly. Well… almost perfectly.

All of the citizens had been successfully released from Omashu, but they soon discovered that there was a stowaway in their midst. A two year old Fire Nation baby now rested in your arms as Aang retrieved the note from the messenger hawk that had just landed. He read through it briefly, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he did so.

“What?” you asked cautiously, watching Aang’s expression.

“It's from the Fire Nation governor. He thinks we kidnapped his son,” Aang said, sitting back down next to the campfire. “So...he wants to make a trade. His son for King Bumi.”

The rest of the night was quiet, each of you thinking about the message that had arrived. You and Katara had been on baby duty all night and by the time day came around, you were absolutely exhausted. The three of you followed Aang as he approached the city, holding the baby carefully.

“You do realize this is a trap right?” Sokka asked skeptically. Katara nodded in agreement.

“I don't think so. I'm sure the governor wants his son back as much as we want Bumi,” Aang said, a big smile on his face. “It's a new day. I have a good feeling about this.”

“I don’t think that the governor would try anything,” you remarked quietly, avoiding Sokka’s gaze as you arrived at the location where you were to meet the governor. “Now while we have his son. He wouldn’t harm-”

You cut yourself off as you caught sight of the three figures approaching. Even with the distance between the two of you, you could recognize the girl in the middle. Azula.

Azula’s golden eyes landed on you, widening slightly before they narrowed. A smirk spread across her face as she stalked forwards, Mai and Ty Lee coming to a stop a few feet behind her.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Azula called out, her tone playful yet threatening. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“(Y/N)? You okay?” Aang asked worriedly, noticing the way you had frozen to your spot.

“Y-Yeah. Listen, change of plans,” you hissed, your eyes never leaving Azula. “Sokka was right, this is a trap. I wouldn’t put anything past her. Keep them busy, I’ll go get Appa. We need to get out of here. Now.”

Aang gave you a firm nod, watching you as you hopped off the scaffolding. You sprinted through the city, desperate to get to Appa before anything bad happened to your friends. A squeak escaped you when you felt something land on your shoulder. Your eyes met large green ones and you sighed in relief before feeling something wet on the side of your face.

“Momo! Appa!” you cried out, patting the sky bison to get him to stop licking you. You scrambled up and took the reins, guiding Appa towards the construction site. “Yip yip, Appa. We need to go help Aang!”

The construction site was pure chaos by the time you arrived. You could faintly see Katara fighting Mai and Ty Lee while Aang and Azula closed in on who you could only assume to be King Bumi.

“(Y/N), Appa! Over here!”

Appa groaned before following the voice, landing in front of Sokka. He climbed into the saddle as quickly as he could, gently placing the baby down before leaning over the edge of the saddle. “We’ve got to help Katara!”

“On it,” you replied, guiding Appa towards the scaffolding. You watched Ty Lee creep closer to Katara, getting ready to strike.

“Katara, watch out!” you cried a second too late, watching with a panicked expression as Ty Lee chi-blocked the girl. Mai crept closer, ready to strike as well. Katara tried to bend the water that had fallen, panicking when she realized she no longer could.

“How are you going to fight without your bending?” Mai taunted, readying her knives. You leapt up from your place, ready to literally throw yourself into the fight. You were stopped when Sokka’s boomerang hit Mai, knocking her weapon out of her hand.

“I seem to manage!” he called out, catching his boomerang when it returned. You chuckled at his words before guiding Appa down slowly. Katara climbed into the saddle as Appa slammed his tail on the scaffolding, sending the two girls over the edge. You guided Appa away from the construction sight, keeping your eyes peeled for Aang and King Bumi. You were silent as Katara and Sokka spoke to one another, making sure that Tom-Tom was okay.

Aang joined you soon enough, telling you that Bumi had chosen to stay behind and had told him to find an earthbending teacher who waits and listens before attacking; whatever that meant. After returning Tom-Tom to his parents, the four of you set off on Appa, ready to search for Aang’s mysterious earthbending teacher.

Back in Omashu, Princess Azula was ready to leave, Ty Lee and Mai at her side.

“So, we're tracking down your brother and Uncle, huh?” Mai asked dully, keeping her eyes forward.

“It'll be interesting seeing Zuko again, won't it, Mai?” Ty Lee teased, looking over at the quiet girl. She simply looked to the side, trying to hide her smile.

“It's not just Zuko and Iroh anymore.” Azula snapped, an irritated expression on her face. “We have another target now.”

Silence fell upon the three girls and they were left to wonder if Azula was referring to the Avatar or to (Y/N).

taglist!

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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

Trope meme for Steggy 48. Fake dating and 60. Poorly timed confession

This is...whatever my brain came up with.

“Are you alone?”

Steve looked up from where he was sketching in the notebook, running a hand through his hair. He knew her - the bright-eyed woman above him. She looked stunning with her hair perfectly pinned to mimic Victorian Curls and bright red lips. Her hazel eyes looked to be searching his, almost frantic and nervous. He could see how she struggled not to look behind her.

He did for her, seeing a bunch of frat boys from their classes clambering around the front entrance to the diner. A nasty feeling in his gut told him they were also around back.

She spoke without moving her lips too much, holding onto her jacket like she might take a seat and Steve could easily put the two and two together. They thought she was meeting him here and on the off chance she wasn’t, they were going to pounce.

They were waiting for her to exit and while Peggy was amazing in the classroom with her snappy comebacks and sass and putting the sexist pigs in their place, there was no way she could fight off the five, if not more, boys waiting for her.

And he knew she could throw a punch after watching her sock Hodge, the leader of this group, in the face after a nasty comment and accidentally caught an elbow in his gut when he was behind her in the library.

She was still waiting for an answer, her face carefully poised.

“I-no, I mean…” He flinched at his own words and Peggy gave a small laugh. “I mean, yes I am. I’m here alone. Here.”

He helped her sit down, feeling how shaken she was under his fingertips and waving to the waitress. Angie instantly came by, putting down a few drinks and a basket of fries and winking at Steve as she left.

“I-didn’t, I wouldn’t ever order for you, I mean…” Peggy’s brow rose and Steve swallowed slightly. “I just...she just did that.”

Peggy laughed again, sounding more relieved this time as she picked up a fry and bit into it. “Angie is just like that. Always insisting she’s miss matchmaker. You’re Steve, right? From my history and French class?”

“Yeah, and just about any other time I’m in the library. Are you alright? What the hell are those guys doing outside?”

They were still waiting, passing a bottle back and forth, still glaring at the window. He got an icky, nasty feeling as he looked out at them.

“Being douchebags,” she huffed. “Hodge, it seems doesn’t like that I scored higher than him in our last test in History nor does he like it that I socked him in the face after that nasty comment about my brother. I’m surprised I didn’t get expelled for that one.”

She seemed to eye the way Steve’s ears turned a shade of pink but didn’t say anything as he picked up a fry and twirled it around his fingers.

“I’ve been hearing them talk all week about it. He’s in my biology class too, unfortunately. Dumb as a sack of rocks, that one. He has some pretty transphobic views too.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Unsurprisingly. I wonder how the hell he even got into the university in the first place.”

“Oh, his dad donates a hell of a lot to the college and bribed the board members.” Realizing how sure of himself he sounded, Steve cleared his throat. “Or so I’ve heard. So, Hodge is pissed about that so he decided to what? Track you down?”

“So to speak, yes. He wanted to show me a lesson. In what a sexist asshole he is, then that’s already done. I ran to the first public place I saw and saw you sitting here, I hope that’s okay. I’m not ruining anything am I?”

She sounded generally concerned and Steve had to force himself to put down his drink to meet her eyes. Under his yellow light, he could make out the hints of gold reflecting in them. “No, no. I was just wasting time. I didn’t feel like being by myself in the dorm while Sam and Bucky are on their date. Plus, Angie is good company. Sometimes.”

“I heard that!”

Steve and Peggy both laughed at the shout from the kitchen.

It was close to two in the morning by the time the pair had decided to leave. Steve hadn’t even noticed how their hands were joined together, having reached for the same salt shaker. They’d never pulled them apart.

They had talked about everything from classes, to how Professor Coulson was heard to be the worst and best teacher, their families, even if Steve was reluctant on his.

And the guys still waited, growing increasingly impatient and nasty in their looks.

It didn’t surprise Steve when the door kicked open and a very drunk Hodge stood there. Peggy stood up instantly, half shoving Steve behind her.

“Carte-r-r-r-” He stumbled a few steps and stood face-to-face with her and Steve had to give Peggy props, she didn’t even flinch as he burped. “I got a b-bone to pick with you!”

The second he went to touch her, Steve jumped to his feet and shoved Hodge back, sending him tumbling back. Somehow the broad bastard kept his balance.

“You lil’ scrimp!” The man was yelling now, charging after Steve until he sidestepped the idiot and it sent him hitting the table head-first.

Steve snorted.

“What? You two datin’ now?” He glared between Peggy and Steve like they were nothing but dog shit under his boot. “Always knew you liked wimpy guys, that why you never went out with me, Carter?”

Peggy huffed. “I never went out with you, Hodge because you’re an arrogant, sexist pig who can’t count down from ten without being confused. Or answer a basic question. How you tie your shoes together, I’m unsure. And for your information yes we are.”

She pulled Steve in by his shoulders, laying a swift kiss on his temple.

“You ain’t gonna get high grades that way, Carter! Suckin’ the dick of the dean of the college’s kid!”

“You’re the dean’s kid?” Peggy had spun around to look at Steve, ignoring Hodge when he stumbled back to them.

Steve could feel his face heating up and nod. “Yeah, uh, Chester Phillips is my step-dad and he hates this son of a bitch here.”

“Only bitch I see is you!” Hodge went to snarl at Steve, any advancements he made were blocked off by Peggy’s fist to his throat. It dropped him down fast.

The guy was wheezing and Steve couldn’t even feel bad, even as flashing blue lights indicated Angie must’ve called the police. “Next time,” Angie told them as she handed Peggy a stun gun. “Use this on the bastard. He runs his mouth too much.”

Steve was exhausted. It was near four in the morning by the time they’d got back on campus. Hodge had been promptly for a combination of things, including assault and underage drinking, not to mention most of his crew taken with him.

They’d stayed late to help clean up the mess and give their statements, but still, Peggy hadn’t said a word about Dean Phillips being his step-dad. Even as they were walking up to her dorm.

“So,” Steve sighed as they stopped outside of her room. “I guess you don’t want to see me anymore?”

Even with the bags under her eyes, she looked beautiful, if not confused. “And why wouldn’t I, Steve? Because your step-dad is the dean of the college? Or because I told Hodge we were dating?”

His shoulders shrugged. “Both, I guess. I just…” He made a noise in the back of his throat.

“What you did tonight, standing up for me, to an idiot like Hodge was very brave and I thank you.” She smiled as she bends down to barely brush her lips over his. “As for who your step-dad is… I don’t care. I know you got in on your marks, on your smarts, as did I. Even if we were to date, it would be because I like you, not for Phillips.”

The kiss had all but frazzled his brain, catching odd ends of her sentence. “Wait - like me…? You-you, like me?”

Peggy couldn’t help the small laugh. “I have since our first group assignment together.”

Right. That was…news to him, but it made sense with the knowledge that Peggy always seemed ready to ask him something before changing the topic.

“I...I uh...would you want to...go out sometime then? A proper date.”

“Only after this gal has had some sleep. Thank you for everything, Steve. Shall we say...noon tomorrow?”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #CJC's Story #babylawyeroq

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fangirl-writes · 4 years

Text

Enough

Young!Roger Taylor x Reader

Queen is my latest obsession

Warning(s): Domestic fight, violence (Roger punches a wall), swearing. Angst. I used a gay slur in there once (f*ggot). It’s not an important part of the story, but a warning anyhow because I know some people aren’t comfortable with the word.

Notes: Angsty stuff here people. I hope I pulled on those heartstrings, but I added a happy ending so all’s well. Also I have no idea how record players work but I wish I did. Also I don’t think cheating is ever okay, but we all know Roger did it and I wanted to try something a little eloquent and angsty.

Summary: You and Roger get into a fight because you want to know why you aren't enough.

Roger threw his keys onto the table. “You’re being ridiculous, Y/N!”

“I am not! Roger why won’t you just give me an answer!”

“Because I shouldn’t have to! We’ve had this conversation before I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about this!”

“And I don’t know why you won’t just answer me!”

“I’ve already told you-”

“You haven’t told me anything!”

“I’ve told you enough!”

“Which isn’t anything!”

“Why the hell does this matter so fucking much to you!”

“Because I want to know, Roger!”

“It shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does matter!”

“Just to you!”

“Yeah because you won’t fucking tell me anything!”

Roger turned with an angry shout, flinging his fist into the wall behind him. The sound as the drywall cracked made you scream and Roger turned to you, hand still curled into a now bloody fist, the action not lessening his anger.

The silence that filled the air was suffocating as you stood there staring in horror at the look on his face, the blood coating his knuckles, and the gaping hole that was now in the wall behind him.

Roger walked passed you towards the door and gave it an angry slam on his way out.

You broke down, dropping to the floor and sobbing. You were still angry, still hurt, and still scared.

After about an hour had passed you finally got the strength to get off the floor and make your way to the phone.

You dialed the number that you knew by heart and waited as it rang in the otherwise quiet house.

“Hello?”

“Brian?”

“Y/N?” He said, hearing the heartbreak in your voice. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Did Roger-”

“We had a fight. He walked out and hasn’t been back for a while and I’m starting to worry about him.”

“You’ve had a fight and you’re worried about him?”

You sniffed, wiping at your wet cheeks.

“God, Y/N, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Would- would you just find him? I-I don’t think he wants to see me but he punched the wall before he left and his hand was all bloody-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, love. It’s not your fault he blew a gasket, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and felt even more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in response, your throat tight.

“We’ll bring him home.”

That was the last thing he said before hanging up and you choked out another sob, letting the phone drop from your hand and swing from the cord as you found yourself on the floor again, back against the wall as you sobbed into your knees.

Thinking back on it now, it had been your fault the fight had happened.

It had been about Roger’s endless groupies you knew he fucked every time he was on tour.

You’d talked about it back when you first started dating and you’d told him you were okay with it. You’d talked about it with your friends and family who’d been concerned about it and you’d told them you were fine with it. The other Queen members had asked you about it, offering to watch him for you while on tour, but you’d told them it didn’t bother you.

Hell, eventually you’d convinced yourself you were fine with it.

It was fine. I’m fine. What he does when I’m not around is fine because at the end of the day he always comes home to me. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

Then why. Why. Why did it take that stupid tabloid article to finally make you realize that you weren’t.

You don’t even know what compelled you to pick up the magazine. Usually you avoided picking up anything that even remotely mentioned the boys because you knew most of it would be slander. Calling Freddie a faggot or Roger a slut or John an absent husband. You hated those articles.

So then why? You asked yourself again. Why did you pick up that stupid tabloid?

Maybe it was because it was one of the few that mentioned you on the cover? Maybe it was because you were bored and wanted something to flip through? You didn’t remember and it didn’t matter now because the moment your eyes landed on that article it was over. And, at the moment, it felt like your stupidest decision.

Roger Taylor, Queen’s Sex Machine, Back At It Again.

After deciding his current girlfriend, Y/N L/N, wasn’t enough for the famous rock star, Roger Taylor was seen acting more than friendly with various groupies during his last tour. Our sources were not able to find a reaction from Y/N, making us suspect that she either doesn’t know about his sexual escapades, ignores them, or doesn’t care. How long will their relationship last if Y/N can’t fulfill Roger’s sexual needs? And how long will it take Roger to come to the conclusion he’s had enough of her?

Enough.

That was the word that kept playing back for you in your head. ‘Deciding his current girlfriend wasn’t enough’, ‘come to the conclusion he’s had enough.’

Why weren’t you enough?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, no tears left to cry and a whole in your heart. You felt numb. Whatever anger or sadness you’d been holding onto before was gone and replaced with an ache in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

It took a knock at the door to finally let all the emotions come flooding back to you.

Was that Brian? What if he didn’t find Roger? What if he did? Were you ready to face him again? Would he still be mad? Of course he’d still be mad. What would you say? Would you apologize? No, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Then what? If he was still mad, he certainly wasn’t going to apologize, that much you knew. What if he did apologize? ‘I’m sorry I caused you the worry, I’ll change how I live my life because you want me to’? No, that’s not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to change because of your outburst. What if he broke up with you? What if he kicked you out? You didn’t think you could stand going back to your family or friends and their pitying looks and ‘I told you so’s. ‘That’s what you get for dating a rock star’ they’d say. He finally decided you weren’t enough. Enough. Enough. Enough.

The knocking came again, this time harder and more persistent.

You rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to the door, every scenario going through your head as the knocking repeated.

“Y/N, darling, if you don’t open this door right now I’m going to break it down.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that made it’s way to your lips as you turned the knob and opened the door.

“I’d like to see you try, Freddie,”

Freddie Mercury stood on the other side of the door, a sad smile making its way to his lips.

“Brian told me what happened.”

The smile you tried to keep on fell at his words and soon you were in tears again, wrapped in Freddie’s arms.

“Oh, darling, oh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothed, stroking your hair as you cried into his shoulder. “I saw that stupid article. I thought something like this might happen.”

You weren’t sure whether his words made you feel better or worse.

He brought you into the living room and sat you down on the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before leaving your side to approach the record player sitting on a shelf near by.

You and Roger spent many hours listening to Jimi Hendrix or The Beatles, sometimes even Led Zeppelin if you could talk him into it. He even danced with you to ‘Since I've Been Loving You’ on your anniversary.

You smiled as he flipped through the albums before deciding on one of their own: A Night At The Opera. The one that, arguably, put them on the map.

You closed your eyes as ‘Death on Two Legs’ started playing softly. It wasn’t their most relaxing song, but their music had a way of calming you down. Freddie knew this after seeing you in the studio with them multiple times, absolutely relaxed in the creative environment.

He occupied the seat next to you again, pulling you to his chest as an offer to snuggle into him.

You accepted the offer and smiled softly as you listened to the angry and bitter song. You remembered them telling you it was based on their nasty former manager, Norman Sheffield.

“His loss,” You’d told them back then. “He’ll be forever known as the man who lost Queen.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Freddie had exclaimed. “It was like a movie scene! You should’ve been there, Y/N. It was a perfect exit.”

“Yeah and then we threw a brick through his window.” Roger added with a smug grin.

“Not our brightest idea.” Brian said.

“Never said any of you were the smartest lot.”

They’d shoved you around for that comment with laughter and good natured retorts.

The memory made you smile, the bad thoughts from before being driven away from your head as you remembered and snuggled against your favorite piano player as his voice drifted through the air.

You wondered if the song would’ve made you angrier if you didn’t know what it was really about and didn’t have the memory attached to it. You supposed it would have but you could only giggle at the lyrics now. It was bitter and mean, as Freddie once called it, but it was a great song.

‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ came next and you released a breath at the softer tone. The song reminding you of Alice in Wonderland and Singing in the Rain, films that you had watched as a kid. It was a short song, but it did wonders for your mood with its playful and happy tune.

It wasn’t until ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ came on that you realized he’d put the record on the B-Side.

You sat up from Freddie, a frown on your face, mood brought down again.

“Change it.” You commanded.

“Sorry, dear, too comfortable here.” He replied, a smirk on his face.

You bit your lip, near to tears again, as Roger’s song played along in the background. The song he’d fought himself into a cupboard for and that you relentlessly teased him about.

“Freddie, please, I-I don’t-”

A knock interrupted your sentence and Freddie practically launched himself over the couch to get it.

The limber bastard.

You followed him reluctantly, knowing who would be on the other side of that door. The man singing a song about his car.

Freddie pulled open the door to John Deacon who was stood with a frown on his face that disappeared into concern as he noticed you enter the room.

He moved to hug you, which you happily accepted. Hugging Freddie and Deacy was a comforting feeling that you desperately needed.

“Why’s this song playing?” He wondered aloud, more confused than anything.

The comment made you laugh.

“Y/N.”

You pulled away from John to face Brian who was giving you a similar look. It wasn’t pity, but rather a sort of concern. It warmed your heart to think that they cared for you so much.

Were you enough in their eyes?

“We found him walking. Had to take him to the hospital for his hand, but-”

“Is he still angry?”

“No.” Brian said, catching you by surprise. “I don’t think he’s been angry for a while.”

Your eyes swelled with tears as Brian motioned for Roger to come inside.

If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed. Roger Taylor waiting for permission to go inside his own home.

He walked passed Brian, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at his shoes.

The song changed to ‘You’re My Best Friend’ but nobody paid any attention to the music.

Freddie had an annoyed expression on his face and opened his mouth to say something until Deacy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently telling him it wasn’t appropriate and that they’d lectured him enough for one night.

“Happy at Home” the song chimed, normally earning a snarky comment from Roger, but it seemed he wasn’t listening or at least not caring about the line for once.

“Come on, boys, I think we better leave these two alone.” Brian spoke up after a minute of silence. “Fred, I’ll take you home.”

Freddie seemed reluctant to leave. Whether that was because he was concerned or because he wanted to witness the drama of it all was unknown, but he followed the other two band members out the door.

You stood in silence for another minute as the song in the background faded into 39. A song you loved.

It seemed to be the kick Roger needed to finally look up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hi...” You replied.

“I’m sor-”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, Roger, please don’t apologize, I don’t want an apology for something I started. No, Rog, all I want is an answer.”

“An answer for what?”

You blinked back tears as you asked the dreaded question again. “Why aren’t I enough?”

Enough. Enough. Enough.

Roger’s eyes swelled up with his own tears and he shook his head with a small laugh.

“Ridiculous, really. You’ve always been enough, Y/N. Always.”

“Then why?” You said, tears streaming freely down your cheeks again. You felt like you’d cried an ocean. “Why sleep with all those groupies on tour? Am I not pleasing you enough? Is that it?”

“No!” Roger exclaimed. “God no, it’s perfect! You’re perfect.”

“Then why?” you asked again, voice raising before dropping to a murmur as you hung your head. “Why?”

Roger took your face in his hands. “Please, don’t cry, love.”

You shook your head, palms digging into your eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

He hugged you to his chest and you felt your heart ache once again because, as mad as you were at him, you longed for his comfort.

“I think I do it because- fuck it, I know I do it because I’m afraid.” He said.

You sniffed. Afraid? Afraid of what?

“I’m afraid that one day you’ll you realize what a twat I am and I’ll come home and you won’t be there. I do it because I’m afraid of getting attached to you, even though I know I already have, because what if you leave me one day? What if you decide that I’m not enough for you?”

You looked up at him. “You're afraid of that?”

Roger feigned laughter, not meeting your gaze. “Yeah, the bloody rock star has feelings. Ha ha.”

“No.” You pull his gaze to you again, feeling about a thousand emotions at once. “Roger, I’ve spent the entire day wondering why I wasn’t enough for you and you’re here telling me that you did all this shit because you think you’re not enough for me? Me?”

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry again.

“I love you, Roger Taylor. And you will always be more than enough for me. No matter how many groupies you sleep with or how many times you hurt me or whatever the fuck those fucking magazines say about you because I love you more than I hate you and sometimes I really fucking hate you.”

Roger smiled sadly at you. “I love you more, Y/N L/N, and I don’t deserve you, not at all. You have always been enough for me and I promise that I will try harder to show you that instead of being the dickhead that keeps breaking your heart.”

You sniffed, burying your face in his chest again.

“Always.” He whispered into the top of your head. “You are always gonna be enough for me.”

“Write your letters in the sand for the day I take your hand. In the land that our grandchildren knew.”

You snuggled into Roger’s chest as ‘39 came to a close, his hand squeezing yours in a sort of reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere again.

“All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand. For my life. Still ahead. Pity me.”

“I love you,”

It was a whisper, barely above his breath but you heard it and you savored the sound of his confession in the sudden silence.

Roger pulled away from you, much to your displeasure and confusion and walked into the living room, making a beeline for the record player. You followed him, hoping not to look too much like a lost puppy.

He flipped the record and adjusted the needle.

He held out his hand as ‘Love of My Life’ started playing.

You’d have cried if you had any tears left.

You took it and he pulled you into a sloppy sort of waltz that made you laugh. The boy could sing, but when it came to dancing he was no John Deacon. You leaned your head on his chest, taking in his scent (cigarette smoke, scotch, and the smell of his lingering cologne).

“I really am sorry. For everything. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“I know. And I’m not going to forgive you, not for a while, maybe not ever, but we can move past it. Just hold me, yeah?”

And he did. He held you for as long as he could.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor x you #queen imagine #borhap imagine #70s!roger taylor x reader #young!roger taylor x reader #ben!roger taylor x reader

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